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Excited boys’ voices ricocheted down the hallway of the house:



M-o-m !

It’s snowing!

They should have known I’d be standing by our front door, boot ready.

Smiling quickly at one another after they found me, they tussled each other putting on warm winter boots.

“Time to walk!”

My enthusiam began at dusk with the first wavering snowflakes of a forecasted blizzard.

Where I live now on the West Coast, snow is rare.  For those living in a cold climate, my child-like melodramatic delight surely raises smirks.  

Yet, not only did I grow up living those snowy winters, but where I live now, snow is a CRISIS. No one has snow tires. Events are quickly cancelled, buses are tediously slow, and a ten minute drive takes an hour, or more. Snowfalls here mean multiple hassles. Once, when neither bus nor car could navigate the steep incline due to blizzard conditions, I was stuck for hours atop a local mountain. 

So, I’ve had my share of hassles with snowfalls. 

Yet, my long-standing enchantment remains. 

With the temperature barely at freezing, my lads and I collected oversized yet delicate  
falling snowflakes quickly on our tongues. The harshness of the city street lights diminish, misting a flickering light onto the streets bordered with barren limbed trees now sparkling white. Listening to our softened feet crunching on the snow packed pavement, I paused to show them various tracks depicting the familiar yet hidden animals of our city: mouse, raccoon, and possum.

Cocooned inside the concealing snow, we shared laughter and snowballs in equal measure. The snowfall lavishly swirled around our slowing steps home. Eventually, even the lively boys were lulled into serene silence.

Opening our front door revived their energy enough for wet mittens, coats and snow pants  to fly into a heap, awaiting the dryer.  Hot chocolate stuffed with crowning marshmallows soon settled in their stomachs as they listened to bedtimes stories that rarely reached the end before drooping eyes closed.

DSC04231My passion to share my snow enchantment fostered snow days packed with snowmen and angel making or sledding down mountain hills and leaping off carport roofs.

Snow adventures fill my sons’ childhood memories.

And their lives today. 

Adult life passions are often rooted in childhood memories where we joyfully shared a parent’s passion.   


No piercing boys’ voices fill my hallway today, still, I stand at my front door, boot ready.

Wrapping my arms around a life time of snow memories,  it’s time to walk…


It’s snowing!