Christmas in July: Snow, Snow, Snow….

It is too dang hot!

Driving home Friday afternoon, the temperature registered at 104*.  Granted this is Alabama and as far as summers go, it’s not been bad. When the mercury rises above 100*…let’s just say the heat makes you crazy. You start looking for ways to cool off. Swimming, soaking in a tub of cold water, sitting in front of a fan, eating ice cream. Heck, I’ve been sleeping with an ice pack. I haven’t followed Marylin Monroe’s lead and froze my undies but I am seriously considering freezing the sheets. You will do anything to cool off.

When I saw the heat index this morning, over 100* again, I thought about snow. I flipped through the files in my memory until I found the memory of our last real snowfall. It was about 6 years ago…

This is sleet, not snow.

This is sleet, not snow.




Memories of snow…

I love snow. I always have. Being a late winter baby, I have had a few birthday’s marked with snow. Living in Coastal Alabama, we don’t get the white stuff often.  It’s even rarer for it to stick. What passes for snow here, is called sleet in colder regions. But hey, it’s cold and it’s white.

My children have only seen snow twice. The first time they were 5 and 6, give or take a year. We drove 30 miles north on slick roads to a rural part of the county. They had 6 inches of pretty, real snow.

First snow.

First snow.

We dressed in layers of long johns and jeans and multiple shirts and jackets. Z-girl was lucky enough to have a pair of rain boots that still fit, C-girl wasn’t so lucky. We stomped around in the snow, let flurries fall into open mouths, and made an actual snowman. I wish I could find a picture of that!

The snowman in question stood roughly 3 feet tall and took every bit of snow we could scrape off the grass. The base was bigger than a basketball. We were proud.  But like all Southern snowmen, he wasn’t pure white. He had the definite appearance of one built by Pigpen. Dirt clung to the snow, giving him a grey tint. We didn’t care.

We threw snowballs and shivered for an hour, before our oldest started turning blue. Unaccustomed to snow, we forgot it was wet. Our jeans clung to our skin.  The thin layer of cotton long johns was no defense against the cold needle prickles of the snow. We pulled the wet clothes off the girls and covered them in thick blankets in the back seat.  Turned the heat on high and drove home.

It was a short adventure, but a grand one. No one forgets their first snow.

Do you remember your first snow?


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