Snows Past and Present

My first memory of snow in Texas, 1972.  The house you see on the left is the stone cabin we rented for 11 years, the only house on "our" 65 acres of Hill Country.  Those white lines in the background were my motorcycle riding trails.  The bent tree to the right was--counter to everything I've read about dogs not having retractable claws--Tony's climbing tree.  Imagine a hundred pound German Shepherd climbing to the crook in the tree and then jumping down into powdery snow!

The tiny girl in a red hat is Daisy, of course, and the girl holding her is a former version of me, 23.  

In 1985, we had the historic 13 inches of San Antonio snow.  We improvised sleds with cardboard and sheets of plastic--wearing our regular Texas jeans and canvas shoes.  After it passed, I bought my kids what passes for snow boots in Texas--never to be worn.

Thirteen years ago, I'm playing in the snow in Virginia with Day and Tom, Jackson and Marcus,  falling down, getting back up, laughing hysterically when my grandsons threw snowballs. 

Nineteen winters ago,  Carlene and I drove to Cape Cod in February to visit our dear friends, Linda and Steve.  Linda taught me how to lie in the snow and move my arms in a circular motion to create the impression of a "snow angel."  

For five years I had a Minnesota man-friend named Bob, and we flew back and forth, San Antonio to Minneapolis, once a month. It was then that I learned that you can do quite well in sub-zero weather if you have the right clothes for it.

Bob bought me snow gear and I spent the days, while he was working, driving around the snowy city and into St. Paul.  Stores didn't close for snow, and I walked with ease through the slushy wet streets and had lunches with writer friends I made there. 

My favorite snow memory with Bob was driving to International Falls and visiting his sister who lived on a lake at the Canadian border.  I dressed up in my snow suit and walked with them to the dock to watch them ride their snowmobile.

After watching a few rounds, I said to Bob, "Let me give it a go."  He gave me all the cautions and instructions for handling the snow machine, and at first, I followed them.  Then I started whizzing around the frozen lake, around the ice fishing huts and back, over and over. 

Bob's sister and husband were impressed. "I thought you'd never even been on a frozen lake before," they said. 

"Muscle memory," I said.  "Same as a motorcycle, just on ice." 

The snow of 2021 has been less exciting.  Due to power failures and pipes bursting, this week has been unnerving.  We don't have the wherewithal or clothes to sail smoothly through a six inch snow and day after day of freezing temperatures.