We’ve reached the end of the first week of April and still it snows. There have been several nights of near record low temperatures. Those of us who rise early for work wonder if we would have been wise to plug in again. I can’t recall this lingering cold so late in the season, but I’m sure my dad could have told some tales on that theme.
Only a few weeks ago it had warmed enough that finally I was able to wash my car. Unfortunately it was also warm enough that by the time I arrived back at home, much of the mud was once again splattered on the lower half of the vehicle.
I’ve been watching our maintenance staff at work, still doing snow removal. Behind the lodge we have a courtyard with walking paths, nice for warmer weather. Lately there is little evidence that it exists. When the blower goes out and cleans yet again, I see the mounds left along the edges of the sidewalks. It reminds me of the mountains of snow the crews in Peace River piled in the sports field behind our house.
What a magnet for kids. Our subdivision was awash with brightly clothed kids, waddling around, crawling up the snow piles, sliding down the sides on their Krazy Karpets or on the seat of their pants.
In their growing up years my boys lived for the outdoors. Theirs was the generation heavily clad in winter gear: heavy coats, snow pants, tuques, scarves and mittens. Everyone spent their childhood outside, digging tunnels, climbing fences, soaring on swings or toboggans. They came home only to eat and warm up. Actually most of the superheroes ended up at my house, ate everything in sight and stormed out again to conquer the alien universe.
Luke was one of the few kids who had his own lightsaber, although it was soon bent and the battery was often dead. He had constructed his own battle-axe and throwing stars, to add realism to their conquests.
When I returned from work, sometimes they related their exploits. Sometimes I didn’t want to know. I restored order to my house. It wasn’t so easy to restore my offspring. Luke had a broken bone in his foot and we often had to replace bent and broken glasses.
Close buddies had vivid imaginations; they didn’t need my guys’ help to come up with crazy ideas. I think of one particular incident. How many adolescent boys fit on one toboggan? The majority of the troop loaded on, sailing down the narrow trail at the cliff’s edge at the end of our neighborhood. The trail veered off to the left; the toboggan took the straightaway. Luke bailed off the back and watched the toboggan go airborne as it went over the edge into the brush. Fortunately the snow was more than thigh deep and the landing was achieved with little damage to life and limb.
The toboggan was never quite the same. Luke asked Mitchell, the driver, what had happened. He was told the Cabbage Patch Kid was actually driving; Mitchell shut his eyes. Who knew that toboggans could fly?
I looked out at the deep snow behind my condo. It is snowing again. I just closed my blinds. I’ve seen enough for today.
