It is snowing, again. The kind of white on gray snow that only shows up after everyone’s already sick of the rain. And the sleet. It’s going to be pretty slick, under that top layer of fluff.
This would be the time of year when Midwesterners tell their kids about their pioneer ancestors, and all those poor children who froze to death in a late snow storm, back in 1890 something. Be sure to take a coat. Because the weather is never guaranteed until at least June, and then, it’s winter again.
I am looking forward to spring. Or the next mini-spring, whichever comes first.**pops another vitamin D pill**
So, in general… the winter around here isn’t long and dreary. Just long and cold. We have storms, the sun comes out, the sky is blue, and the snow is breathtakingly bright. I’ve lived in places where winter is just gray and muddy for months at a time, so I appreciate blue.
This is not ski country. Not enough hills and not enough snow. But once upon a time, my friend’s dad hooked up a sled to the back of his snow mobile, and off we went, zipping through the pastures.
I’m fairly sure that Mr. _________ was not what you’d refer to as a responsible parent. Swinging a couple of un-seatbelted, un-helmeted children from a rope off the back of basically a motorcycle on skis while you do figure eights past trees and barbed wire doesn’t seem like responsible parent behavior.
I’m also quite certain I knew that at the time, and didn’t care.
I’d be horrified, now. I’d probably be calling Child Protective Services.
Or at least yelling at the top of my lungs. You tied those kids to your what?!!
But nobody ever did get hurt. Not badly, anyway.
And it’s still the most fun you can have that close to decapitation.