Ya Gotta Love Blizzard

It used to be as a kid when these big blows would come, and the snow ran horizontal, we'd put on all manner of winter gear and head out to see if we could stand the test. All bundled like survivors from the Shackleton Expedition, we would trudge out to the backyard fort and prepare to meet the elements as if we were explorers caught out away from civilization. We had no food, but only our own fortitude and determination. We'd huddle in a small steaming mass there in the corner of out crude hut listening for the wolves.

I remember feeling that ten inches of snow push against my thighs. It held me down, keeping me from a waiting wagon, struggling across the great plains in early march. I had seen pictures and knew they struggled. At the same time I had ventured before in this same wilderness and knew survival was always awaiting me even if my dad had to come and fetch us. I do not think we knew the early settlers had died, frozen there, maybe half eaten on Donner Pass. That was not part of my nine year old world view. We loved the struggle and we knew that it was making us stronger. At least, so we said.

It was all good fun then. We would become caked in snow, our cloths even filled with pushed in winter. We laughed, rolled, turned our cheeks red and our hands numb. But the minute death seemed eminent, it was homeward bound, certainly no more than two hundred yards away. It was a struggle mostly fighting off the attacks of brothers who were more determined to survive than me. We crawled. We reached out to be saved only to find there was no help, but hindrance from the savages that were determined to keep me in the cold to perish, whatever that meant.

When the blizzard hit today, I almost found myself wanting to out in it to relive that struggle of youth but I never even asked Ann to go knowing full well she would once again think I was an immature idiot. But then again, we have done it in the past but today the gale was a bit much, and the fire warm. Oh, the aromatic tea so delightful as the smells of dinner wafted through the house.

Out the window the blizzard blew with conviction but only in brief moment did I go out to get more wood and feed the chickens.

I remember now. The cold and the fight, the struggle, the frozen crawling was mostly done to expend energy so we might return to the warm home to feast up on a fresh pan of cookies. That, I can do today, in memory.