While this photo is from a site unknown to me, incredibly its sheer beauty transports me to a tranquil place in my mind where I can escape for just a little while, allowing me to lay aside the demands of my day and the concerns of my life. I don’t know why it is exactly that I have come to love winter and a fresh blanket of snow. Perhaps it may be because of the many childhood memories that I have from winters past. Or, in a  spiritual sense fresh, clean snow paints a picture of cleansing and redemption for all that is soiled and impure. Depending on my needs, seeing snow and watching the magic of the transformation it brings to my surroundings is a feeling hard for me to describe.

I have to admit it’s always disheartening for me to be privy to conversations whereby one or several are spewing negative feelings regarding snow. I want to shout “NO!”–not me!! I LOVE snow. It’s clean, it’s white, it’s pure, it’s a free gift from God to play in and create snowmen, forts, and snowballs….all which create memories, especially for a little, wide eyed girl in the 60’s growing up in a neighborhood with about 30 kids in variety of ages who came together one beautiful cold winter afternoon for the Zauel Street Snowball Fight of snowball fights. A fresh, perfect snow for making snowballs  had taken place overnight. Teams were formed and plans with an appointed time of ambush had been set. Under proper supervision of each team captain, busy mittened hands built a snow wall in the front yards of the two opposing teams. These walls would be our protection against the onslaught of the flying frozen ammunition that was to come. Once we were satisfied with the height of our respective walls, we began the arduous, cold task of making snowballs. I don’t remember how many we made, but time was of the essence as we anticipated the countdown to the first launch. Each team worked in unity and harmony with one goal in mind–be ready and be on the winning team….and hope that at the appointed hour no cars would need to be using Zauel Street. (This really wasn’t an issue since our neighborhood was in the southwest corner of the city, much off the beaten path)

It’s been over 50 years and a lot of snowballs for me to remember if I was on the wining team. What I do remember is ‘someone’ announcing to halt making snowballs and ready for the big fight. In what seemed like a flurry of hands and arms, heads ducking to avoid a direct hit, and bobbing up and down behind our snow walls, in a matter of minutes the fight ended. Amid the sheer cold and exhaustion I remember screams of delight as a carefully aimed snowball found a target or the expressions of anguish being the recipient of a well thrown frozen ball accompanied by the realization that all supplies had been used. In what took hours to prepare, minutes werre able to consume, yet create and record a memory into the mind of this little girl. Those of us living and participating in the Zauel Street Snowball fight laughed for days, and whoever had bragging rights enjoyed weeks of feeling like champions.

That snowball fight is but one favorite memory. I was fortunate to live two blocks away from a city park that made two skating rinks every winter. Afternoons and weekends were spent on our ice skates. I was 11 years old when I got my first pair of skates. They were a gift from my older brother Mark. When he became old enough to drive, we often made the  short trip to Hoyt Park to skate. This was a much larger city park that was flooded with millions of gallons of water to form skating rinks. Mark occupied his skating with a pickup game of hockey while I practiced my fancy footwork nearby.

I  have many other good memories that have snow in the backdrop. There’s my brother’s  January 1967 wedding that was postponed for 24 hours……getting over 12 inches of snow one April workday, only to have the sun clear all the roads before 5 pm…….remembering dad letting us build an igloo outside the back door one year…….or the times dad took us to the Water Works to sled on those hills….even skiing  in our own neighborhood…..watching the ice thaw on the Saginaw River complete with crashing sounds under the power of Nature ushering in Spring.

No, I admit to becoming a bit disgruntled when folks complain about snow. It’s from winters past and future that I know many more happy memories are coming my way.  There are mugs of tea or hot chocolate to be enjoyed,  warm sweaters and slippers to keep me warm, and who knows…….maybe I  can  join a good snowball fight again to test my age old skills of dodging, bobbing, and taking careful  aim at a worthy opponent.