LET IT SNOW–LIKE IT USED TO

We grew up in the hills of north-central Kansas. Sledding hills, for sure. That was back when we had a handful of blizzards every year like the one we are having today in most of Kansas.

Today’s blizzard signifies the first snowfall of the season, and it has taken us down memory lane, back to those years.

I asked Gail and Suzanne for their recollections, and these are their reports:

From Suzanne: We would sled in the pasture northwest of the farm and slide out onto the pond at the bottom of the hill. Don’t know if we ever really checked the thickness of the ice. Or how we would always get out of school ahead of everyone else because our roads were going to drift shut. I can also remember using bread sacks over our shoes when there weren’t enough boots for everybody. I also remember drifts so high they would touch the clothesline. These amateur snowstorms we have nowadays don’t cut it.

My 24-year-old son just called to discuss the snowstorm. “I don’t remember this much snow since I was in grade school,” he said. Perhaps it has been that long. This is the same son who saved us on New Year’s Day with a new furnace when ours crapped out. Perfect timing to have the HVAC guy as your son, just in time for this blizzard.

Gail didn’t immediately respond to the group text I sent them to ask for input about their snow memories. Turns out she was out shoveling snow, no surprise. “It’s one of my faves,” she said. They didn’t have as much snow in far northwest Kansas as Suzanne and I did here in the middle of Kansas, perhaps just a few inches. She was probably cooking and baking all morning and delivering to shut-ins as well. I asked her if she shoveled everyone’s snow in her town of about 1,100 people, and she replied, “I do tend to go a bit overboard when it comes to shoveling. If there’s snow adjacent to where I’m shoveling I will remove it, time permitting. Got shovel–snow problem!”

Gail recalled these memories from our time on the farm: The snow drifts by the barn were half way up the security light pole. We were out of school for a week because the Rock Hills snowed shut. Dad would have the V blade on the road grader trying to open the roads. It was slow going.

We did indeed live in the Rock Hills. Our road was cut deep through a hill, and the both sides remained, perhaps ten feet up. They have since been leveled down quite a bit, but when the snow started flying, the road through them was sure to drift shut. I remember the excitement at seeing Dad in my classroom doorway at any point in the day before school was dismissed, because that meant we were getting out early. He knew when to call it a day and come get us before it was too late. We lived five miles from town–three on the highway and two on the gravel–and the big hill was a mile from home.

We needed input from our brothers about these hills and the epic snowfalls on the farm, and they delivered, including these pictures, developed in 1978, according to the date stamp on the back:

I think Gail took this picture of Suzanne and me from the window of our second story bedroom, over the porch roof.

The hills in this last picture were our sledding hills.

When the snow cleared enough, our friends would come out to sled with us, knowing they were the perfect sledding hills. Suzanne recalled further: I can also remember when our friends would come out to go sledding, too I can remember Judy and Tammy being there. If you told me today that I had to bundle up in snow clothes and walk as far as we did and stay outside for as long as we did, I would die. I can already feel the hypothermia setting in just thinking about it.

I agree. I did, however, bundle up this afternoon and get out for a bit. My neighborly husband was in his element, clearing our shared driveway.

Mother Nature is quite an artist, effortlessly creating these sculptures in our yard today:

Earlier today, I got a call from my dear friend Amy, who lives in Hawaii. She was taking a walk on the beach, and I could hear the waves crashing in the background. Just to pour a little salt in our wounds, I asked her to send pictures:

I apologize to Amy and to all of you, for some reason, I am not able to crop pictures on this blog. Her arm is normal length, just not in this picture.

The sun tried to poke out a few times while I was out, and I just stepped out again a few minutes ago to see the crescent moon making its appearance. It appears the storm is over, and now the digging out commences. Our roads are mostly impassable; I walked to the mailbox and saw one four-wheel-drive pickup plowing along. Otherwise, our highway was unrecognizable as a highway.

Here is a picture from today, and a few of me from 1978 as well. The Volare station wagon brings back memories, too. And that coat…I loved that coat.

We hope your snow memories are as sweet as ours. Stay warm and safe, everyone. Aloha!

EVERY YEAR

Today is January 22nd. One month ago today on December 22nd, I posted that the sisters of The Sister Lode would be celebrating a late Christmas with our brothers. It would have been our mother’s birthday, and we felt it was the perfect date to gather. It was not meant to be.

Old Man Winter and Mother Nature conspired against us to make travel difficult for Gail yesterday, and possibly for our brothers today, which was predicted several days ahead, so we decided to call it off just to be safe. We will keep trying, as Christmas can–and should–be celebrated throughout the year.

The snow flew all day yesterday, and this morning, we woke up to a beautiful winter wonderland. As the afternoon goes on, the snow continues to melt, and will soon be gone.

While I much prefer 100-degree temperatures to bask in the sunshine, this morning’s weather is my favorite for my daily run/walk–if there is no wind. I loathe the wind as much as Gail and Suzanne love it, and it was very mild from the west this morning.

Gail lives in western Kansas, and they typically have much more snow there than we do in central Kansas. These are pictures from her yard today, where she estimates they had about 9 inches of snow.

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Our mom would have been 86 years old today. This day, as well as Dad’s birthday at the end of March, has become sweet-bitter, instead of bittersweet. Time may not heal all wounds, but it gives us the opportunity to gain strength, and to find new ways to celebrate their lives, instead of mourning their deaths.

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Just like after a snowstorm, there is beauty after loss. The sun always comes up again after a dark day and night, and the snow begins to melt away. The cold and dark never last, and we are given warmth and sunshine again. In life, we are given the opportunity every day to make it a brighter day and to find the beauty, but we have to do the work.

It is sunny and 33 degrees now, and there is a mild 5 mph wind from the west. The snow is melting, and I might just lace up and go for a short walk. I know there is beauty out there I am not seeing from inside the window, and a walk would make it a brighter day.

Happy Heavenly birthday, Mom. It is indeed a bright day.

Mom didn’t like to be photographed, but I don’t think she minds now if I share these. She loved sunflowers and cardinals, though, and we loved to celebrate her birthday when she was here. This is one of her last birthdays.