“And finally Winter, with its bitin’, whinin’ wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.” ~ Roy Bean
Snow, Snow, where art thou?
Not going to lie, I was a little bitter a couple weeks ago, when it snowed in New York and I was in Vermont and got nada. Zip. None of the fluffy white stuff!
With the holidays approaching, I wanted a White Christmas and was doing everything I could to appease Mother Nature. I was even willing to do a snow dance and you do not want to see me dance!
Luckily, a few days after I got back to New York, there was a dusting. Enough to jump for joy, but alas not enough to make it a true White Christmas in my book.
When I flew back to New Hampshire it was green as could be. An ugly green, but the grass was definitely still holding on and taunting us all with the fact that the snow hadn’t stuck and that my hometown was NOT living up to its name. I mean Mount Washington had snow, but I, sure as the abominable snowman, was NOT going to be climbing up there to get my taste of Snow.
I had my limits after all.
Well be careful what you wish for, because I didn’t even have time to dry my tears, and write a scathing Facebook message for all to see before New England got pummeled in a series of storms and I was NOT hating it.
I remember the days of snow days. When school would be cancelled and my Mom would bundle us up giving even a Christmas story a run for its money with how we were dressed. She would (lovingly) kick us out the door to build snow forts, sled down makeshift hills, and have snow ball fights. It was memories of utter bliss, and even a little bit of torture from my brother and his friends.
My Mom would call us in at the end of the day and we would rush back with icicles hanging from our hair and snowballs attached to our ski pants. She would have hot chocolate waiting, and we would gulp it down resembling elves with our rosy cheeks and chocolate mustaches.
It was memories I still cherish to this day and a part of me can’t help but get giddy during a snowstorm. Not just because it makes the Holidays even more idyllic, but it makes it all the more special to share it with my nephews.
Snow Ball Fights
Living in New York for five years driving in snowstorms is something I am not use to, but when my four year old nephew asked me where I was, and when I was coming over because he wanted to play outside I couldn’t say no.
A fifteen minute drive might have turned into a half hour, but it was well worth it to go over and let them throw me into snow banks. Repeatedly.
I am striving for Auntie of the Year after all.
Kid at Heart
Auntie of the Year aside, I had an absolute blast with them. Not just because I adore these little humans through infinity and beyond. But their childish excitement was a reminder that we are never to old to do something so simple as playing in the snow.
As adults we tend to lose that magic. Our practical side of reasoning comes out. Telling ourselves it is to cold, and wet. We have to shovel. And really who wants to shovel? It is heavy!
Adulating is hard work after all. It is easy to forget the raw beauty of Mother Nature. There is beauty in everything if you look hard enough. With the beauty comes the nostalgia of a time when I would attempt to count each snowflake and then catch them with my tongue. How excited I would get when I looked out the window and see the first flakes, and the joy I still get even in my old age.
Do you love Snow days? How do you spend them? What is your favorite snow memory?