The Snows I Remember
As I watched the snow falling so fast it seemed to close
me off from the outside world, I harkened back to other snows from my past.
First were the snows of early childhood. A memory still
so strong of a hillside behind our home where all the children were welcome to
gather on snow filled days and try their luck at whooshing down like the wind.
We had no sled like some did, but that didn’t stop us. We soon learned that a
cardboard box, broken down and spread just right made a wonderful platform that
slid with lightning speed down that hill as we screamed in delight, and not a
little fear, since we could not steer, and a slight drop off did exist to the right. After a while
the snow compacted like ice, with a glassy sheen, and speed became a real
factor. We would build up all the steam we could, and try to be the one who
slid the furthest down the field at the end of the drop!
A later memory is of teenaged years lived in the
countryside, with few others our age around. But we still had fun on a snow
filled day. We now had that sled which we so coveted when younger, with runners
and all. A steeper hillside across the
road on a neighbor’s farm became our runway.
This time, the snow was so deep and loosely packed that the runners of
the sled sank into it like a knife in cotton candy fluff, and the sled would
not go. However, we thought back to
those days of cardboard boxes and made a plan.
Another box was broken down, and used to flatten and compact the snow. By
the time we were finished, we had a good glassy runway, a foot deep, and oh,
how we flew down that hill! We were told not to use the sled headfirst, as it
was dangerous, but there were no adults around, and we soon learned the thrill
of plowing down with the snow flying in our faces, wind whistling past us. It
was almost like flying!
Fast forward to college days, and yet another memory. We were
so busy during those days of higher education, we didn’t have time for snow
play during the day. However, there came a full mooned night, and a friend with
a sense of adventure and a child’s heart came ‘round, reminding us there was a
perfect hill for sledding just outside our dorm! Once again, there were no
sleds to be had, none of us having packed up the old ones to bring to school of
course! So, once again the trusty cardboard box! A couple were found in the
trash, broken down, and we were ready once again to cavort and scream and laugh
in the snow. One other thing we had left from our childhoods! A warm cup of hot
chocolate when we reentered the building, dripping and red faced!
There are yet other memories of snow that have nothing to
do with play. These are of times spent
alone in thought and prayer, as I walked snow filled woods or streets. In the
forests, if it still snowed, I could hear the flakes as they whispered down,
whisking against tree limbs and any wayward leaves still on the branches. It sounded
like voices from Heaven speaking softly to me. Wrapped in gray skies, warm
coat, and my own thoughts, I felt isolated from the world. Other times, when
snow lay thick on the ground, but no longer fell, I could hear small animals as
they scurried away to hide, the only evidence of their passing the small
footprints they left in the fluffy white coating. In these times, I came to truly experience
the Psalm, “Be still and know that I am God.”
These, and even the times I walked the quiet streets of a college town
when weather kept all else inside, were sacred for me, quieting soul, spirit
and heart.
These days I watch the snow from the window, ensconced in
warm rooms with a hot cup of tea. I miss those times, miss them terribly. I
will never walk in snow filled woods again, never know that particular
blessing. However, my memories are there, and they serve me well. I have but to
think back to those times, and I am transported, I am there.
