Snow
Memories
“Snow
was falling, so much like stars filling dark trees, that one could easily
imagine its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness.”
Mary
Oliver
It’s
snowing in Alabama! Almost never do we see the white scraps of clouds falling, floating
through the air. It’s pretty and, like an alluring, dark-hearted woman, quite treacherous. We southerners don’t know how to drive on ice and snow, but that doesn’t
stop us from trying. We’re sharp like that!
Having
grown up in the mountains of North Carolina, I have seen a lot of snow in my
life. Because of global warming it doesn’t happen as often there as it did when
I was a kid. My romance with the white powder ended in my youth when I had to ditch
my car on the side of the road and walk, in calf-deep snow, several miles to my
parent’s house wearing jeans and brown leather loafers. Not fun. All that
starry beauty doesn’t count for much when you’re freezing cold and can’t feel
your feet.
I
remember one winter when there were days and days of snow. My friend Betty Lou
invited everyone to her house to sled. We were about fourteen then; old enough
to admire the opposite sex but not old enough to do anything about it. We could
play outside in snow for hours and be impervious to the cold if we were flirting
and having fun. We gathered across the street from Betty Lou’s house, and
sledded down a hill and into a creek bottom. Kids like me, who didn’t own
sleds, brought cardboard boxes or garbage can lids. You might end up sliding
sideways or backwards, but they reliably got you down the hill. By the end of hours
of sliding down and trudging back to the top, all our boxes were in tatters and
garbage can lids dented beyond recognition. We had snow caked on us everywhere,
inside our boots and hanging off our coats and scarves. When we couldn’t stand
it anymore, we went inside drenched and frozen, left our soaked shoes at the
back door, and placed all our wet gloves on the hearth to dry. Our friend,
Hugh, who broke through the ice, and ended up in the creek, had to borrow
clothes from Betty Lou’s dad. I remember him walking away with enormous cuffs
and a jacket that swallowed him whole. My first year in college, my parents
bought a house built on that same hill. Betty Lou was already married with a
baby, and I didn’t see Hugh again until our twenty-fifth high school reunion. He
had married his high school sweetheart, Mary. That is for me a sweet memory. I’ll
bet you have sweet snow memories, too.
Kahlil Gibran once wrote, “Kindness
is like snow. It beautifies everything it touches.” I love Gibran’s book, The
Prophet, but I prefer to think that kindness is like sunshine. It warms
everything it touches.
Winter
weather here can be as deadly as our famous tornados. I hope everyone is at
home, safe and warm. There is something about snow covering the ground and
decorating tree branches that makes us feel sweet-hearted. Kindness comes easier.
So, be kind today and beautify everything you touch.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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