I have a love/hate relationship with snow. I think its really beautiful and I love the snap it gives the air! However, I can never erase from my memory the snow day that went wrong.
I was young, maybe 4 or 5, and my mother and I decided to go play outside. At the time we lived in upstate NY and it had snowed the night before. A really good, fluffy snow. I remember being so bundled up in my snow suit that I could barely walk! My mother decided we should build a snowman. I was rather apathetic to the whole idea b/c I was just so overwhelmed by the snow and all that it promises; snow angels, snow tunnels, snow balls, etc. My mother built her snowman and was extremely pleased with it. So much so, that I was informed that I couldn’t touch it or I would get a handful of snow rammed up my nose. I was young and, at the time, I never though my dear, sweet, kind, life-giving mother could possibly be serious with that threat. I had freckles and long braids, I was too adorable to maim in such a violent and cruel manner. Besides! Its just snow, right?
I was trying to run. I can honestly say I had no intention of harming the snowman, but my snowsuit made me so uncoordinated that I fell.
On the snowman.
And my mother leapt in for her revenge, hunk of icy snow ready in hand.
And I, being a bewildered 4-5 year old, didn’t think to cover my face.
The brain freeze was exquisite.
For that day on, I kept a 30 foot radius around any snow creation she ever made again.