When you are a child the arrival of snow is a good thing. School gets canceled, sleds come out, and cookies get baked. Sometimes it even comes before Christmas.
Heavy snow meant the car wouldn’t be able to climb either the gravel hill or the blacktopped one. We would be stranded.
Being stranded meant no cars coming down the street where we liked to sled.
Snow was a joyous experience.
My mother somehow knew when the snow would come. At the signs of the first flakes mom would call us to come look. My brother and I would be press our noses against the front picture window. Our questions came rapid and high pitched. “Would there be enough to cancel school? Can we stay home even if it isn’t enough to play in it? Would mom make chocolate chip cookies? “Would it stay long enough that Santa would use his sled?”
The answer from mom was always the same, “We’ll see.”
Then she would disappear and come back with the special glasses used for company, and they would be filled with 7up. The sparkles would pop and fizz against our noses then mom would say, “Let’s toast the first snow of the season.”
I’m not sure she did that every year, but it seems like she did. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized she knew there was a probability of snow so she purchased that special 7up and chocolate chips in advance and hide them on the shelf we couldn’t see.
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