Winter…

Yes, I know.  I know that I lived for almost 28 years in Southern California.  I know that I now live in South Carolina.  I know that both of those places are not known for their ‘winters’.    I know that.

There was a time though, that I lived in snow.  I was born in Oil City, PA.  A place in northwestern Pennsylvania.  It is situated in the foothills of the Allegheny mountains, part of the Appalachian chain.  It was cold there, still is.  Winter is part of my DNA.  I know it.  I remember the feel, the smell, the taste of the cold and I miss it.

I truly was one of those kids who walked almost a mile to school (high school it was a mile and half).  The bus routes just missed our home, so, we walked.

We walked uphill and downhill, and yes, that was each way.  Living in a hilly area you had to go up and down both ways to get anywhere.

When I was in school girls weren’t allowed to wear pants.  The nuns would allow us to wear our snowpants to school, but they were hung up in the cloak room as soon as we got there.  In my junior year of high school we were allowed to wear dress pants to school.  In my senior year we were allowed to wear jeans.  I think there were only two days where I did not put on my jeans that year.

So, yes, I can relate to the snow and the cold and the frigid air.  I remember it.  I can remember sitting in a classroom watching the weather turn bad.  It would be cold at lunch time and gray.  The gray would turn to rain and sleet and then snow.  We would leave the school and head home.  Some days the boots would be sitting warmly at home because they weren’t needed in the morning.  So, off  we would head down Seeley Avenue slipping and sliding.  This street would go down hill a ways and then climb up to another street, where we would cross over to.  Going uphill we would try to walk on the grassy part of the curb so we could keep our footing.  Heading across Cedar Avenue was easy.  It was straight. It was level.  It let you catch your breath.  We would then cut across the alley by the cemetery where it was normally oiled, in the snow it was mushy slush.  By this time your feet were soaked and felt like bricks to walk on.  Your knees were burning with the cold.  Your nose was running and your mittens were clumpy with chunks of snowy ice where you had put them down to pick yourself up from falling.

By time we got home we were ready for warmth.  We were ready for flannel pajamas.  But, more than anything we were ready to get our homework done and go back outside, this time for fun.

Yes, I may live where snow is a rare happening, but I remember and I miss the snow.   I lived in snow as an adult also, but that is another post.  Thanks for stopping by today, stay warm!  DAF

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