 The little Minnesotan girl still living inside the grown-up looking me has been wishing for some real winter snow for years. I have missed the drifts and banks and piles and blankets where I once dug tunnels and made forts and painted with food coloring and made snow angels + snowmen and rolled around and lost an occasional mitten or boot.
It's that storybook snow, legendary of Minnesota, the kind that stalls out the world for a few days. Anyone new to the area would think all my childhood stories of big snow were nothing more than the elaborate imagination and perspective of someone 4 feet or shorter. Even with adult responsibilities of getting work on time on the morning of such a first snow, and the shovelling around our house which is required to be done by us adults, I was giddy to hear we would get at least a foot of snow this last weekend (I am extra giddy at the prospect of an even larger storm in the next few days).
 I woke a couple hours early on Sunday morning to ensure I could eat some breakfast and have time to dig out my car, also allowing for extra drive time. I peeked out the bathroom window to see an amazing wonderland of white and a smile came over me. For a moment, I contemplated calling in to work and telling them my car was stuck and playing the whole day away in the lovely piles of sticky snow. Of course, I didn't. Instead, Alyssa and I spent a good hour shovelling before our neighbor finished it for us with his snow blower. I showered and went to work. But not before climbing on the big pile we had made. I will yet spend a whole day playing in the yard before this snow is melted, I promise.
 Labels: daily life, outdoors, winter |
I sometimes wonder that too - I do remember snowdrifts as big as me...
is this just because I was small?
(because, of course, I'm not anymore!)