Snow

I’m not a fan of snow. Oh sure, it’s pretty and all but in the words of Carole King: Snow is cold, rain is wet, and it chills my soul right to the marrow.

There’s also a familiar Christmas tune that speaks of snow: Oh the weather outside is frightful, the fire are so delightful, and since we’ve no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. The key here is the weather is frightful, and there’s no place to go. The problem with this whole scenario is I always have places to be.

A long time ago, when I was but a child, and let me just say I did love me a good snow day, no school and all, I wasn’t a fan of snow. It was cold. It was wet. It was cold.

Once I went sledding with my family. It always sounds like fun in the planning but after my dad parked the car along side the road in a local park, I preceded to open my door, step out and land flat on my butt. Uh, ouch!

And another time, again as a child, we were visiting my grandparents’ farm. There was a substantial amount of snow on the ground, enough for some sledding fun (and I use that word sarcastically). My uncle who was only eight years older than me, suggested that my brothers and I accompany him to yonder hill for a little frolicking, sledding and general snow related activities. We trekked for many miles on foot, okay not miles, but buddy it sure seemed like it! And never more so than when I had to walk back to the house alone because I had peed my pants. Talk about cold and wet…and a little stiff when I finally arrived.

Just so I don’t sound like a total snow-Grinch, there was a time when my kids were small, my husband, brothers and nephew went sledding at night on a golf course hill. Total fun there! I think, however, it had a lot to do with the fact that I had a sitter and a little free time and this was just the avenue of respite.

That’s my tale of woe when it comes to snow. Nothing traumatic took place, though the wet, stiff pants took awhile to get over, along with the bruised ego. I just don’t like snow. To be honest, it’s not the snow so much that I dislike, but the cold. Give me snow on a warm sunny 70° day, and I’m there.

Snow is cold.

Snow is pretty.

I don’t like snow.

Linking up with Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts. They are!