As a child, nothing was more exhilarating than playing in the snow. Bundled in snowsuits, moon boots, scarves, hats and mittens, we waddled out into the bright whiteness. We had a row of magnificent pine trees behind our house that caught and held mounds of snow, bending the branches down to our height. Arik and I would stand under the weighted branches, grab on, shake with all our might and scream "Avalanche!" This caused heaps of snow to fall directly on us, hitting our exposed faces and melting down the backs of our snowsuits. We would shriek with delight and move to the next tree to experience another "natural disaster."
This kind of experience with nature, along with making snow families, sucking on icicles, watching snow fall silently along a dimly lit street, illuminated by the street lights and an occasional passing car, are all thoughts I connect with winter. It is easy to sit and selectively daydream about the beauty of the winter season. I may have to revise this page after spending the next few months back in the thick of the storms, slush and gray skies.
Even as I grow, I still enjoy the beauty of a "frosted over" nature. The first snowfall will always be a magical sight, just as the first winter snowflake caught on my tongue is a welcome taste, and the first snowball thrown (at my brother!) is a welcome victory.
