Winter Weekend

Last week the temperature varied between 19 and 35 degrees.  It was 75 degrees outside today.  Tomorrow at this time it will be in the upper 30s.

I no longer think that the local weather “patterns” are determined by the jet stream and solar cycles, by deforestation and urban sprawl, or even by chaos theory and butterfly’s wings.  I am now pretty sure the weather here is determined solely by some celestial being absentmindedly rolling a twenty-sided die.

Regardless of how often the local weather folks give us their typical “Computer models predict anywhere from a light dusting to 7 feet of snow tomorrow.  Remember - only we know for sure, so stay tuned for the next eighteen hours in case we decide to dribble out some actionable info”, seeing the white stuff here is pretty rare.  This time, though, they got it right and we did get the two inches of accumulation they called for.  They were probably as surprised as anyone.

There was no way, though, that they were even a tiny fraction as delighted as the neighborhood kids were.

It was a little pathetic (at first) watching them attempt to “sled” down a short, shallow grade in the circle out front using foam-based Boogie Boards on what was then one-quarter of an inch of snow.  They would take a running leap at the thing, flop belly-down, skid about 18 inches, and stop.  And then they would do it again.  

What they lacked in common sense, though, they more than made up for in ambition, hard work, and a can-do attitude.  They went and got their shovels and brooms and buckets and started gathering snow from the street and piling it here and there in the circle.  The purpose of doing so was obvious to all there but it was waaayyy out of my ken.  Our son immediately joined them to offer to help out in whatever way he could to forward their project.

Anyone who claims that modern Americans lack the drive and focus of their great-grandparents would retract those ill-chosen words in a heartbeat after seeing the level of effort these kids displayed Friday afternoon.  This horde of snowmasons managed to gather hundreds of snowballs in a wheelbarrow, make countless (shapeless) snow-castles, and even 80% of a snowman.  They were well on their way to scraping the road clean before the snow began to fall faster than they could gather it.

Backing up a bit.

After it was determined that it was definitely going to snow, many places began sending their folks home for safety reasons. It might sound like overkill for just a few inches but it’s a really good call.  See, the infrastructure here does not support massive snow cleanups and, although you might be the world’s greatest wintertime driver, the other folks out there are too busy talking to mee-maw on their cell phone, telling her how gosh-durn pretty everything is, and spinning out of control to notice you even exist.  Traffic is dicey here at the best of times, never mind rush hour on a Friday, and with snow and ice... forget it. You might as well just drive your car into the nearest ditch right away and save yourself a lot of effort.

I took advantage of the time off to head to Target and buy a cheap sled... just in case the weather people underestimated (Hey, you never know.  Literally.)  I hid the sled in the garage in case the snow missed us altogether.

After about an inch and a half fell the grass was no longer visible, the street was a sheet of powder-covered ice and people with old-timey Flexible Flyers were being pulled down the road by smiling family and friends in a scene so heartwarming that Normal Rockwell would have rolled his eyes in disgust.  It was awesome.

Time to try out the new sled.

We sat the boy on the piece of red plastic and told him where to hold on (it wasn’t his first time in the snow but it was his first time sledding).  We gave him a gentle push down a shallower part of the yard just as an experiment.  He reached a top speed of 3 mph and slid for about 25 feet, propelled partially by gravity but primarily through his own delighted giggles.

“Want to go faster?” I asked.  “YEAH!!!!!” was the reply.

The next hour was spent with me launching the kid from running starts at the top of the “hill” and watching him rocket down to the bottom of the dip in the property and start the climb up the other side while mommy filmed and snapped pics.  I would go and haul him back to the top of the five-degree slope (trust me, after 60 minutes of this it feels like Everest) and do it again.

We got out early the next morning right after breakfast to play in it one last time since it was going to be in the mid 40s.  After going up and down the hill a few times we hauled him and the sled to the park about a mile away.  We watched him slide down the slide on the playset (not on the sled... even though it fit perfectly, btw... next time...) while we talked with a dog-walking friend of ours who just happened to be there.  Something must happen to the material on a playground slide in the winter because he was coming in so hot a few times I was shocked to see his jacket didn’t sport re-entry burns.  He was very proud of learning the knack of landing on his feet and sliding gracefully to a stop, so it was tough to drag him away from there when it was time to go.

Good times...

Now, the only evidence we have that winter visited at all is a two-foot ball of mud and ice slowly disintegrating in the neighbor’s yard, looking like the saddest comet in the whole wide universe.

The only evidence, that is, besides the gigabytes and gigabytes of terrific photos and video I am going to look through yet again as soon as I finish this post.  

It is 2013, after all.