I was at a ripe old age of 7 before I got my first taste of snow. We went up to Lake Tahoe some time in May and I was besotted with visions of a pure white landscape. Up until that point I’d only known about snow through a storybook featuring 3-D illustrations where everything was made out of felt. My brother and I dove into the crunchy icy tundra, inadequately clad in sweater and jeans.
“Hey, this stuff isn’t soft at all!” I revealed to my brother, shocked by the icy hard substance.
He hurled a snowball at me and it hurt. It was nothing like I expected. I screamed and proceeded to give chase but quickly gave up when I discovered that each step brought me closer to frostbites. We looked up to see children wearing snow suits and hats and mittens and reality hit me right then and there. Snow wasn’t made of marshmallowy fabric. And it’s cold.
Nevertheless, I always find that there’s something magical about snowfall and it makes a perfect background for lively winter carnivals.
The kids are gearing up to participate in the annual winter festivities.
Cory doesn’t realize there’s a bird still hanging out in the tree he bought. Darby is certain she’s going to be crowned the ice skating champ for the third year in a row. Little Stevie hopes the peppermint hot cocoa will warm him up.