Newspaper article The Christian Science Monitor

Here Are the Snows of Yesteryear

Newspaper article The Christian Science Monitor

Here Are the Snows of Yesteryear

Article excerpt

MARG and I hadn't seen each other for a couple of years, so walking rather than driving into La Veta suited us both. The town is a comfortable couple of miles from her parents' Colorado home, and the thickly falling snow didn't faze us for a moment. A childhood in upstate New York either makes or breaks one for winter weather. Marg and I were made.

These days, we both live in milder climes, Marg in southern Germany, I in southern Indiana. Though far apart, we keep in regular touch. Weather reports punctuate weightier matters in the letters we exchange. "Cold enough for snow, but only a half-hearted dusting - Ach!" "Rain, rain, rain and it's almost Christmas - Phooey!"

We commiserate absolutely, both aching for one decent winter, as if for childhood itself. Our moms send us maddeningly casual reports of what we are missing: snows that fall like benedictions all night long over the southern rim of the Great Lakes, and along Colorado's storm-friendly Front Range. My own folks haven't moved from northern New York. Hers had uprooted from one snow belt only to settle down in another. Marg and I finger the envelopes arriving from the hearts of winter and wonder where we went wrong. Finally, last month in Colorado, we found ourselves together in the thick of a memorable storm. Though we were not aware of it at the time, this snow would be the fourth-heaviest in the area's history, falling for 30 hours and accumulating several feet along a broad, state-long band. Marg had already spent a warm, sunny week with her parents when my plane touched down in Colorado Springs, meeting the front head-on. She and her mom, Bonnie, were there in the family's four-wheel-drive Blazer. With calm expertise, Bonnie guided it homeward over two mountain passes. Marg and I sat transfixed as we cleaved deep virgin snow over the last couple of miles of unplowed country road. This was joy beyond all reckoning. Our vehicle nosed into the garage like a dependable plow horse to its stall. …

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