Our Maine Street's Aroostook Issue 23 : Winter 2015 | Page 14

WINTER A Love/Hate Relationship By Catherine Shaw Bowker When winter decided to visit Aroostook County early this year, November 1 if you don’t recall, I was at first dismayed. You see, unlike many County folks, I despise snow. I no longer ski or snowshoe and my last attempt at making a snowman was a flop. To me, snow is cold and messy and just makes life more difficult. As a kid I loved the snow. In fact, I recall childhood Halloweens when we wore our snowsuits because there was snow on the ground. We never had those fancy costumes that came in a box, just the face masks with the tenuous elastic holding them to our sweaty faces. Our parents’ rationalized, “There is not much sense in buying an entire costume when you are just going to cover it up with your snowsuit.” I guess they were right. My point is we are spoiled now expecting the snow to wait at least until Thanksgiving. What was it about snow that intrigued me as a child? After all, it was still cold and messy like it is today. But there was something different about the snow. At eight years old I did not notice the cold and really did not care about the mess. After all, I had my blue snowsuit, my red snow boots and a hat, scarf and wool mittens my grandmother had knit for me. What else did I need? Glancing out my window at the white heaps today, I tried to recall what I found so fascinating about the snow that I could spend an entire day outside playing in it. I am sure the bulky winter clothing was not the attraction; none of us liked our snowsuits. If you have seen the classic movie, A Christmas Story, you will understand why. Just like Ralphie’s little brother, we could barely move in our snowsuits because we had on so many layers of clothing. Heaven forbid you fall down because you could lie on your back like a turtle for a long time if no one was around to pull you off the ground. But, we tolerated the suits because we wanted to be out there. Once outside we generally stayed most of the day. We made snowmen and had snowball fights when the snow was the proper texture. Snowman snow is not like any other snow; it is special. Snowman snow must have the perfect balance of wet and dry, like good cookie dough. If it is too dry, the cookie won’t form and if it is too wet, the cookie will stick to the rolling pin. A snowman is the same. If the snow is too dry the snowball won’t form correctly and you cannot roll it across the yard adding more snow to it until you have just the right size for the various body parts. If the snow is too wet, you get slush. Slush is not good for much other than splashing in it, which can be great fun. 12 WINTER 2015 If the snow was not good for snowballs or snowmen, we got out the toboggan and went sliding. Our toboggan held at least four kids, more if we sat on laps, and one dog. Dad designed a wonderful sledding ramp for us. Made entirely of snow, it was built on a hill in the backyard. About three feet high, the ramp sloped toward the field which was our destination. Dad poured cold water over the ramp to help it stay firm and to make sure we had a fast shot out of the gate. After waxing our toboggan with a bar of candle wax, we piled on and sped to the bottom of the hill the dog’s ears flapping in the breeze and all of us screaming in delight. At the bottom of the hill, those of us who had not fallen off on the trip down, quit the toboggan and started the tedious trek to the top of the hill so we could do it again. This is where the dog came in handy. Our dog, a mutt, happily pulled the toboggan up the hill for us. Occasionally, he tolerated one of the smaller kids riding on the sled. I guess the dog liked the ride as much as we did. We could spend the entire day outside. When the snow was sticky chunks of it clung to our woolen mittens eventually turning the mittens soggy. We did not care. If we were lucky, Mom was doing laundry and we dried our mittens under the dryer’s exhaust vent on the side of the house. Only two things beckoned us to the house, needing to go to the bathroom or our parents [