fbpx

Snow Days

This winter, I hope the kids in one-piece snowsuits return outside

By Kellyn Brown

As I write this, snow is in the forecast. But it also was last week, and it never came – at least to the valley floor. I miss the snow and, this time around, it’s been gone for way too long.

Last winter, snow came early in the season, left quickly and never returned. Sure, there were a few flurries here and there, but not enough to stick for more than a day or so. Not enough to build a snowman.

The area ski resorts did an admirable job keeping most of their respective terrain open, but you can only push snow around for so long. Eventually, ski runs were roped off earlier than usual. It wasn’t just the bare spots on the mountains that were noticeable, it was the complete lack of snow in several Northwest cities for much of the season.

Growing up in the north, snow is embedded in our character. We relate to the movie, “The Christmas Story,” a little more than our neighbors to the south. The scenes where little Randy Parker is dressed in a one-piece snowsuit so large that he resembles the Michelin Man and struggles to walk especially resonates with me.

I had a collection of one-piece snowsuits as a kid and, before heading outside, my mom would stuff me into one of them, squeeze me into boots, wrap a large scarf around my face and send me off with my older brother (who, yes, begged for and received a pellet gun as a gift – just like Randy’s older brother Ralphie). Except my brother didn’t shoot his own eye out, he shot me in the back. His gun was subsequently taken away.

During the winter, we would spend hours outside digging snow caves and shaping elaborate forts, which would be used for the inevitable neighborhood-wide snowball fight in which at least one child would run home crying after getting nailed in the face.

When there’s a drier winter, like the last one, I wonder what kids do all day during Christmas break. Their parents must be bored, too, because soft snow at once makes them irrational and think their children are invincible. Dads build jumps that launch sled-carrying children several feet in the air. My dad liked to tie my steel flyer sled to the back of his car and cruise around the neighborhood. The neighbors only complained once the snow began melting and sparks shot up behind my legs.

As you get older, snow keeps you young. There are few activities more fun than pushing an unsuspecting friend into a snow bank. This, I think, is socially acceptable at any age and should be expected following a large snowstorm. I have, however, learned over the years that not everyone agrees with that opinion.

It’s common to pray for snow in the mountains. And like everyone else who skis or snowboards, I’m hoping for an abundance of powder days. But this year, I’m also praying for snow at lower elevations, enough to cover the valley floor with a foot or more.

This winter, I hope the kids in one-piece snowsuits return outside. I want to see their parents join them, over-engineering snowmen in their front lawns. I want to be shoved in a snow bank by one of my friends.

Yes, the driving can be hazardous and the shoveling is time-consuming, but we signed up for this. Snow is part of mountain living and, when it’s gone too long, I’m reminded how much I miss it.