Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Remember those childhood days when you would get out of bed, look out the window and shout "it's snowing!". Then you would be glued to the radio listening to the school closure announcements hoping your school would be among those listed. If school was closed, it was back to the bedroom to get dressed in your snow play outfit. Then, out the door with your sled headed for the sliding hill. If it was the first snow or very deep snow the first order of business was to pack the hill. All the kids would walk up the hill sideways, footprints side by side packing a trail for the steel runners of the sleds. If there was someone there with a toboggan or skis they made the first few runs and packed the snow without the sidesteps up and down the hill. Then it was sledding, sometimes without stopping for lunch, or more often a quick trip home for a sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate, then back to the hill. It seems strange today that such a simple thing would keep us occupied for the entire day. Climb the hill, slide down, then back up the hill and down again. For adventure we would go double or even triple belly flop down the hill. The person on top seldom made it to the bottom of the hill still connected to the sled. When we finally quit for the day our clothes would be soaked and we would be shivering with the cold, standing around the stove in our shorts and bathrobes getting warm. We would repeat this sledding day over and over, often into the night using the light of a fire at the base of the hill. I can remember days when I wore new Jeans sledding and my legs and underwear would be blue from the dye in the Jeans. The color would stay for several days until it wore off. I still get excited about seeing the snowfall, silently shouting "it's snowing."