Oh I would love that,Edy!!! So reminiscent of my growing-up years in upstate New York! But even though the snow was above my head in the first grade, never once did they call for a "snow day." All the fathers on Lincoln Street would get up very, very early in the morning and begin shoveling a snow path to Lincoln Street school only a block away from our house. You talk about a claustrophobic experience! I kept standing on my tip toes to see over the top (but then I was very small and short, anyway) But after school and on weekends we played every hour that we could out in the snow. Then when fathers got home from work, they'd use their trucks to carry us all to the top of Spring Street Hill, where we could enjoy a 1.5 mile long ride down. (The trucks took another route back to the bottom). Stories abound about those wonderful days. My sister Norma was sledding down that steep road when she went into a ditch, hit an exposed concrete pipe under someone's driveway, broke her jaw, knocked out several permanent front teeth and was really a mess. She still has terrible headaches from that accident. Another time, my oldest brother, Dick, came flying down Spring Street hill when a large truck went around the barriers that had been set up temporarily along the side streets to guarantee our safe passage. As he was slowly crossing Spring Street, he didn't see my brother who of course couldn't stop in time, so Dick just rode right under the truck and finished the run! He became an instant hero and played it to the hilt. Fortunately, the truck was tall enough that there was plenty of room for Dick to sail underneath. I was forever getting my feet frozen wherever we went sledding and I'd go to a relative's house or a friendly person who would take me in her kitchen, put my feet in tepid water, and keep changing it so as not to damage my feet. I literally couldn't walk on them. I have often wondered if the terrible problem I've had with my feet all my life might have originated from the near frostbite I regularly received as a young girl.
The pictures you posted were so nostalgic, as Carol said, and I keep looking at them. I am so glad you love the winters, Edy. It would be awful to have to live in that climate if you didn't. I so miss the snow, the icycles, the snow cones (when it was safe to eat them), the frozen, stiff snowsuits which stood by themselves next to the floor registers of our warm house. Mother always knew to have hot chocolate with marshmallows for us to drink when we came in. I remember she always kissed us over and over, saying "I love to kiss those cold, pink cheeks!" And of course she'd wrap blankets around us and we'd all pile on the couch together to get warm again.
Thanks, y'all. It's been 70-ish here, too, raining and boring. I look at Edy's pictures and a million memories parade through my mind.
Love you all!
That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death.