Memories....

With the approaching winter weather and my mind riding fresh upon the coattails of a recent ski trip to Timberline Lodge, thoughts of snows past come to my mind. I love beautiful snowfalls that are wet and heavy. To watch the big flakes falling to the ground, thick and heavy is perhaps one of the most awesome sights I know!

My fondest memories of beautiful snowfalls occurred as I was growing up in NW Arkansas in the 50’s. Our farm of 360 acres would take on a coating of snow that transformed the landscape into something only imagined in a storybook. Pine tree branches would be heavily covered, bending low beneath the weight of the snow. The cattle pen, thick with “muck and yuck” was covered by a pure white blanket of beauty that made you forget you should put the BOOTS on before crossing the pen!

Stacked snow was everywhere to be seen; fences and fence posts piled high, limbs of trees had all they could balance, clusters of Black Walnuts still hanging were now covered with a white cap of snow, as was the framework above the Well where we drew water. Today there would be no wind to blow away The Master’s handiwork.

Bundled up in warm clothes, coats, gloves and boots, double socks and caps, we boys were the first to disturb the undisturbed covering. We made tracks and snow angels and followed our own footprints back to the house, one adventure after another. We threw snowballs at each other and anything else that moved or sat still. We rolled up giant snowballs and made snowmen taller than we were, attaching hats, sticks, scarves, and anything else we could find to make them come alive. We hunted snow birds with our Daisy BB Guns and fed our kill to the cats, who eagerly dined on the fresh food.

We explored everything and left nothing unturned. Even the Barn was inviting and cozy. The cows and chickens were warm and dry in their stalls and nests. The hay was dry and offered a place to sit and play. It wasn’t long until we were back outside exploring and using our imaginations at being better Cowboys than the real ones!

I particularly remember us venturing way out on our property to select the perfect Cedar Christmas Tree to bring home to Mom. The longer we walked, the more beautiful each tree looked! At last, we decided and lay down in the snow to saw it down. We each helped or took turns at dragging the tree home across the snow, like we were pulling a sled. Mom would always tell us how pretty it was and there was much joy as it began to look more like a Christmas tree. We had fun decorating it with tensile, lights and bells. We popped Popcorn, threaded it like beads on a string to make a garland for our tree. At the top, a beautiful Star crowned our tree, and we rested.

Being poor folks, the grownups took few pictures; even then they were black and white prints from a Brownie Camera. But the pictures we took with our minds, with our imaginations, are still, today, just as vivid and clear as the day we snapped them. They will forever remain, unfading, unblemished and in full color!

Occasionally I reach back into the archives of my mind and pull forward those memory shots of beautiful snows and rolling hills covered by Jack Frost. I feel certain that all of us have a place in our hearts reserved only for our fondest memories. To those of you, who are young, or young at heart, probe the minds of your parents and grand-parents and I believe you will be surprised at the stories you hear. Ask them about the good old days in their lives. Record their thoughts and pass them down as a heritage of adventure to your children.