I remember how much I looked forward to the snowfall when I was a young boy. Back then the weather people might not have been able to track a storm like they do today, but then, my family wouldn’t have known because we didn’t have a television until the early 1960s, so there were no weather reports for us to watch, we just watched the sky and knew it was snowing when we saw it falling out of the sky – how much we’d get was anybody’s guess.
After the snow fell, mom would dress us up in whatever warm clothes we had (usually made of wool – nothing like today’s “warm” clothing), and we’d head outside to play in the snow.
As I got older and had siblings, the snow became fun because we’d get our pieces of cardboard and go “sledding” down any nearby hill. Back in those days the snow plows didn’t get the snow off the roads like they do now, so dad would get a long rope and tie it to a toboggan, then hitch that to our station wagon, and he’d pull us kids around Blackduck Lake – nobody complained that it wasn’t safe, because dad was cautious and I’m sure we weren’t going as fast as us kids thought we were.
Later years, the snowfall meant we could get our Johnson Ski-Horse out of the shed and playing in the snow took on a whole new meaning – especially for our neighbor, who we’d rely on to help us get the snowmobile unstuck from time to time.
Shoveling snow didn’t seem so bad because I knew I could earn a few extra dollars moving that white stuff off sidewalks and driveways, so snowfall was still something I looked forward to.
As the years added up, snowfall took on different meanings – less enjoyable ones – and it was almost always followed by bitterly cold temperatures. I started enjoying winter less and less, and dreaded the weather change in November of each calendar year.
It’s hard for me to imagine after nearly five winters of much, much warmer temperatures, and to be honest, there are times I think about how I used to feel when that first snowfall came, but I’ll admit I really like looking out my windows and seeing the green trees and grass while the snow is falling in Minnesota.
It’s funny how something that is repeated year after year can take on different meanings, and while you might be shoveling snow I’ll be looking forward to my next tee time, and I’ll grill our Thanksgiving turkey in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.
I admit, Christmas was much better with snow on the ground.
Have A Good Week!
