I don’t easily give in to sentimentality, but for today I'll make an exception. Snow, you are so welcome today, even the gray above is a treat. This whole winter has been nothing but gray, but no snow. The empty trees have been skeletons, a reminder that the sky hangs over us like a death shroud. Now they are coated with white. Life has returned.
The blanket below gives the ground a mystery, where has it gone. It can finally sleep. Days are nights, nights are days for the covered earth. Even shovelling you to clear a way to walk between your banks is a relief. I may be of senior years, but my laboured breath feels good.
As I clear the walk I remember as a child with warmth the winter days tobogganing with my sister and friends. I can still hear those screams flying down the hill. We were raised in a rural environment, so snow that fell in depths that felt as deep as we were tall were as frequent as the fun. Our grandmother knitted wool mittens that would gather little snowballs, soaked from head to toe. Our snow suits were hung to dry. Best though was snow day, no school, because we took a school bus, we were remote so there were no chances taken. Yahoo!
Years later my wife and I had a daughter. I don’t know who was more excited to get the toboggan out her or me. We live in the city, but there is no lack of hills. There were no woolen mittens, but the snow suit was still hung to dry. Now I look forward to having a grandchild that I can steal for the day. Yahoo!