Like Bill, I, too, am from Minnesota (and still am!). Thanks to climate change, the horrible winters are no longer so snowy and icy; but what remains today is still not a day at the beach. Tomorrow is December 1 -- and we still have a very brown winter. What snow we had once received, melted during our most recent 50 degree F. day.
One of my most comforting memories of winters in the 1950s winters is quite simple -- I recall many long afternoons, after 5:00 PM, walking the 9 blocks from Cub Scout meetings, back to my family's home in a very rural-suburban neighborhood; and, from across the frozen pond and over the unbroken snow in the fields in between, the golden light from the kitchen & dining room of our house, where my mother was preparing supper. All around me was the dark, and it was quite cold, and scary -- there were dogs prowling around me, and many of them were none too friendly. The roads back then were unpaved, and I had to constantly check to make sure that my feet were not wandering from the frozen ruts that lined the path ahead of me. Occasionally an oncoming car would force me to jump out of the road, and into a snowdrift, which would then fill my boots with snow and slush. But, looking up through my tears, just ahead of me, only a block or so away was that wonderful golden light of home, like a lantern welcoming me in the dark, where I would be safe again, and warm, and loved.
Silly how some memories just stick with you throughout the years. . ..
DKINGSLEY Hahn <dkingsleyhahn@gmail.com>
Tue, Nov 30, 7:56 PM (14 hours ago)
to Bill
Like Bill, I, too, am from Minnesota (and still am!). Thanks to climate change, the horrible winters are no longer so snowy and icy; but what remains today is still not a day at the beach. Tomorrow is December 1 -- and we still have a very brown winter. What snow we had once received, melted during our most recent 50 degree F. day.
One of my most comforting memories of winters in the 1950s winters is quite simple -- I recall many long afternoons, after 5:00 PM, walking the 9 blocks from Cub Scout meetings, back to my family's home in a very rural-suburban neighborhood; and, from across the frozen pond and over the unbroken snow in the fields in between, the golden light from the kitchen & dining room of our house, where my mother was preparing supper. All around me was the dark, and it was quite cold, and scary -- there were dogs prowling around me, and many of them were none too friendly. The roads back then were unpaved, and I had to constantly check to make sure that my feet were not wandering from the frozen ruts that lined the path ahead of me. Occasionally an oncoming car would force me to jump out of the road, and into a snowdrift, which would then fill my boots with snow and slush. But, looking up through my tears, just ahead of me, only a block or so away was that wonderful golden light of home, like a lantern welcoming me in the dark, where I would be safe again, and warm, and loved.
Silly how some memories just stick with you throughout the years. . ..