Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Write something AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL (10/02/14)
- TITLE: Don't Eat Yellow Snow
By Bea Edwards
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“Eleven feet of fresh dreamy powder!” I all but screamed gleefully into the phone.
My 26 year old son was a bit more reserved with his “Yeah I saw it on the weather” and “See you tomorrow.”
I didn’t let his lack of enthusiasm break through my glorious praise and amazement at God’s timing and His perfect gift to me and my two oldest sons.
I had planned the long weekend snowboard trip months before as a late birthday present for Trav and Cory. Their younger brothers were still coming out west for spring break as part of the parenting agreement and had already enjoyed some time that year on the slopes of southern Colorado.
With a plan to bless my boys and armed with travel points, I booked the tickets and prayed the snow wouldn’t melt by then.
Oh glorious day that snowstorm bombarded Tahoe.
Arriving in Reno a couple of hours after them, I tried to control my enthusiasm, really I did. Nevertheless running happily into their arms with a squeal evoked embarrassed looks from my ‘cool’ and sleepy adult sons. Poor boys had a 3 hour drive to Chicago Midway airport that morning at 5 am. I was fresh from my 2 hour jaunt from northern AZ.
“Hi mom,” they smiled and hugged me, diplomatically ignoring my joyful hopping around.
Surveying the landscape as we drove away from Reno the ground was brown and crusty ugly. Trees were barren spires, no snow was in sight.
As we ascended into the mountains the snow steadily appeared, less than an hour later.
Things began to percolate in that vehicle let me tell you. The tired sighs and do we have to attitudes lifted mile by the mile as did the sheer height of the snowplow castoffs on either side of the highway.
Lake Tahoe looked dreamier than I had ever seen it. The glittering snowbanks blanketed the town and the freshly shoveled tunnels to each establishment lent to the magical quality.
None of us got much sleep that first night.
Nothing could have prepared us for our first look from the top, after having exited the gondola. Tree boughs bent under the weight, barely able to hold the snow flocking them, under a brilliant blue sky.
“Wow,” we all breathed out in unison. We sat on our behinds in the snow for a few minutes and took in the vista of Lake Tahoe cast like a sparkling sapphire in a setting of white Gold.
Then the business end of our trip kicked in.
“Woo whoo” was my unadulterated scream most of the day as I chased after those hot dog boys of mine.
We soared down the slopes. Whizzed around naturally formed massive berms. Took turns leading in and out of the trees, until we realized one was missing.
“He was right behind me, when we went into the trees.”
“Well then he should be here any minute,” I remarked as I wiped snow spray from my goggles.
The muffled “ummm- ummm,” and wriggling pine branches dropping giant tufts of snow, a hundred or so feet up the mountain, in no way prepared us for what we saw appear mysteriously out of the snow.
The sun glinted off something bright yellow buried in the snow. “That’s weird; it’s the same color as Travis’ goggles.”
“Hey that looks like his jacket” Cory remarked as one arm and then another slowly materialized from the snow around the base of a huge tree.
“That IS his jacket!” We screamed in unison, unbuckled our bindings and raced as fast as we could in our awkward boots, up the hill.
By the time we arrived, Trav had managed to wriggle his way mostly out of the tree hole he had partially fallen into. As we dropped to our knees near the hole, what began as giggles of relief turned in to gut splitting guffaws, as we surveyed the snow crammed into every conceivable nook and cranny, making Travis look like some crazy abominable snowman.
“It’s not funny,” he pouted, and began to methodically knock the snow from his pants, jacket, and especially from his powdery cap and signature yellow lensed goggles.
“No it’s hilarious,” I squeaked out between gasping laughter, just before he clouted me with a snowball.
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