It is snowing for the second day in a row, here in Maine. This is what I remember it being like when I was a kid. I don't remember it snowing this long since 1993, when I was a freshman in College, living in Vermont.
This is the way it is supposed to be in New England.
Those of you who grew up with lots of snow, do you remember?
The sheer excitement? The snow forts, the snow cones, the snowmen, and snow angels. The magic of it all? Sitting under trees covered in snow, coming in with your hands burning from the cold, tingling as they warm up? Raw wrists and ankles?
And sledding? We had the best sledding hill across the street from where I grew up. The best. Many hours were spent there. My sisters and I would bundle up, and head for the hill .
This week I have this bug I can not shake. I have no voice left. When Addison asked today if he could go sledding again, I decided to let him and Anna go, while I watched (like a hawk) from the window with Jack.