When I was growing up outside of Chicago, I recall there being a pretty massive blizzard. I’m not sure if it was 1978 or 1979, but I was about six years old and
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when the drive and sidewalk had been cleared, there was enough snow at the base of our huge maple tree that I could climb the snowpile well into it’s branches.
Late in high school and while I was at University, Minnesota was my home. I recall one year when we got over two feet of drifting snow that left us snowed in over Halloween - I bitched, moaned, caterwauled, and basically threw a temper tantrum after the first hour of shovelling. Unfortunately, there were a few more days of shovelling to follow, even with the help of a 4 wheel drive vehicle with a snow blade.
30 years on, I’m living in Yorkshire, and by the accounts of James Herriot you’d think I’d be up to my knees in snow already and cross country skiing to the shops. While I’m not that far from his neck of the woods, I am just far enough to evade snow all but a few days of the year.
Living less than a mile from the cloud-making beastie known as Ferrybridge Power
Image by Ian Britton via Freefoto.com
Station helps in that department, I think. It does weird things to our atmosphere. In the summer, it can rain with no discernable rain clouds. In the winter, it rains but rarely snows.
However, I think the lack of snow makes me appreciate it (and enjoy it) much more.
Snow should be enjoyed. Snow should inspire us to act like kids again. Track rabbit footprints in fresh snowfall, make a snow angel, go sledding, pelt a friend with a snowball for no reason, catch a snowflake on your tongue.
Every time it snows, I can feel my childhood wash over me. It isn’t long before the snow is just a memory, but I wouldn’t trade that time machine to my youth for anything and I am happy to live somewhere where I can’t take snow for granted.