Trees, yard, deck are dusted with snow this morning. Just a bit. It looked pretty as it fell last night, but it wasn’t nearly the inches of snow other places got.
I remember walking home from the school bus when I was a child. The bus let my brother and me out at the start of our long driveway. We slogged through the snow, feet making squeaking sounds, hurrying to get to our house. I remember the relief at feeling the warmth of the living room, taking off coat and cap and hovering around the wood-burning stove.
First thing was to take off our wet socks, put our shoes under the stove to dry, and get into dry socks and shoes. Gradually, our face, nose, and hands returned to their normal color and we got warm.
Wood-burning stoves are nice, but they require wood (makes sense, doesn’t it?) I also remember days when I’d have to go to the woodpile to bring in wood for the fire. Sometimes the logs would be frozen together and it’d take a while to break them apart. Carrying in an armload of frozen wood wasn’t a lot of fun, but it was a necessity.
Anyway, those are some of the memories. It’s nice to think about them. I didn’t feel deprived or put-upon. It was just life. Looking back now, it seems hard, and I wouldn’t want to return to those days, except for the people. Mom, Dad, my brother–I miss them as part of the old days.
But, now, grateful for the warmth of my house, for the conveniences that I’m prone to take for granted, it’s nice to look out my window at the dusting of snow, and remember.
Speak Your Mind