The Christmas lights have long since faded. Wreaths and wrapping paper still litter the sidewalks awaiting the next garbage pick-up. Once aromatic evergreens, now with needles cast and brown, lay in wait for fishermen to load into the bed of their trucks and place them in lakes for future crappie and bass structure. Remnants of the last New Years fireworks are barely heard as the last of them are “popped” by young boys and girls in our quaint neighborhoods. This all means it’s over. At least it’s over in the literal sense by what I have described, and continue to as, the “best time of year.”
And to think, that wonderful winter weather featuring frigid temperatures, wintry mix, sleet, and yes, even that “fluffy” word….SNOW is just now on the horizon. It is in the forecast, at least it was, at the time of this writing. So, are you rushing to the local grocer to grab the last few jugs of milk and the last loaves of bread to stock your shelves? I hope you’re not one of “those.” Instead, this weather puts the “kid” back into my soul, fruitless as it may be.
As much as I am a kid at heart during the holiday season, I become even more excited when those weather folks mention winter storm advisories with significant accumulations of snow. Are you like me when you hear these words from our Woody Assafs and Bob Nebletts? Some of you will recognize these names, but many of you will need to make a “Google” run to know who I’m talking about. Yes, sponsored by ole Reddy Kilowatt and Seale Lily ice cream, these gentlemen were the most popular figures on the television screen when the stars lined up and gulf moisture met the arctic blast from the north. The combination offered the chance, albeit small, for freezing rain and sleet, then turning to snow when conditions came together to form the perfect union. Be honest with me, don’t you get in a festive mood, heightened with anticipation, at the hint of snowfall?
I remember sitting at my desk in grade school when the weather would begin to change before classes ended. On the rare occasion, the principles would make the announcement that they may be letting school out early if the weather began to deteriorate. That was enough to cancel any concentration on the three Rs, for the rest of the day. The only way to salvage any learning experience was for our teacher to tell us to pull out our tablets and write a theme on what we liked about snow. When we heard the first school bus crank up, even the writing was put on hold even if the driver was just lining up for normal pick up.
When my sister Jan and I arrived home with the exciting news of what was about to fall from the sky, Mom was already ahead of the game. Spiced tea was already brewing on the cooktop, and you couldn’t place another jug of milk into the fridge. The loaves of bread were stacked neatly, and Nestle’s cocoa was right next to the coffee mugs as well. There was a sense of panic, for no one in the household had bonafide “snow boots.” Sure, I had my Browning feather weight hunting boots, but in no way were they up to the task to save my toes from frostbite with the forecasted blizzard of the century.
My dad shook his head in disgust as Mom emphatically dictated a jaunt to the local shoe store to prepare. She would have made a good Paul Revere announcing the arrival of the British. She burst into Busick’s department store announcing to all present that the snow had already been detected in Canton. How it always snowed in Canton first is beyond me, however it seemed like it always did. Mr. Bobby Nick would dust off the galoshes that had been sitting on the shelves since last winter just waiting on my mother. I still remember how they zipped up and then there were buckles for reinforcements. Dad just leaned against the counter shaking his head, mentioning repeatedly to Mom that she was going to jinx it.
It’s a miracle Jan and I didn’t break the light switches turning the back lights on to see if any wintry mix was yet falling. Do you remember doing this as well? We would stand on the back porch, eyes fixed on the spotlight, to see what may or may not be falling. Even dust from the back lawn was considered precipitation. Back and forth we would go from the television set to the back light. At least we were getting our exercise. Though the forecast was extremely important, more important to me was what was running at the bottom of the screen, that being school closings. Whether it was slush, sleet, or snow, I just hoped for a bridge or two to ice up to impede travel. Of course, five or six inches of the fluff would always be the best to see on the ground.
I failed to mention the other sustainable items that were needed for the kitchen. Most important were the eggs, sugar, and vanilla extract. How could one ever survive the snowstorm without the nutrition from snow ice cream? Was it, or is it true, that you must have at least three inches of snow for it to be “safe” to consume? I suppose there were atmospheric pollutants present even a half a century ago too. I do remember Mom gently scooping snow from the hood of her car when we were indeed blessed with the frozen substrate that we all craved. I watched with great focus and anticipation as she filled the blue “snow bowl” from which she created her magic. The concoction was formed by just the right amount of sugar, with the whipped egg, and how I encouraged her to add more vanilla than the recipe called for. We couldn’t eat it fast enough so we could move on to another and another batch. Nowadays there are precautions about eating the raw eggs in the mix, but who cared back then?
There were epic snowball fights on our neighborhood street. No one cared if they were struck squarely on the nose by the frozen cannonballs. We hid behind the shrubs with our hands holding snowballs as we took turns ringing the doorbells. When the door was opened to see what guest had arrived, we pelted them with a barrage of frozen missiles from our cache. In a cacophony of laughter, we left tracks across the lawns as we headed to our next victim. Of course, the “moms” of the street just dusted the snow from their dress and secretly laughed even though we were scolded as we departed to parts unknown.
When I was old enough to drive, I headed out to the numerous farm ponds in our Bronco when it snowed. It seemed like the mallards and gadwalls poured into the local ponds back then. I had a route that I would make when the rare snowfall covered our landscape. Ever so quietly I would sneak in behind frozen cattails or over the dam of the impoundments and jump resting waterfowl. On more than one occasion, I would fill the floorboard of the yellow truck with prized ducks. The opportunity didn’t present itself often, but I took advantage of it when it did. I still have pictures of my mixed bag back in the day. I still can’t believe my hair was that long during those times. Those photos are fun to go through in my albums.
All good things must come to an end, and it wouldn’t take long for our Mississippi weather to return. The sun would emerge, and the treetops and icicles would begin to melt. Some of those icicles resembled that of daggers. We were always cautioned not to eat the icicles in fear of getting a “red” throat. Do you really think we behaved and adhered to this request? Ha, we ate the ice cream, didn’t we? I never knew the difference. Before it disappeared, I would grab a gallon freezer bag and fill it before Frosty melted away. During the peak of summer, I would retrieve my bag of snow from the back of the freezer and chisel a small amount from my stash to enjoy and reminisce. Sometimes I would make a snowball, and perhaps even another bowl of snow ice cream. I had to be sparing though, for you never knew when we would get another snow.
Yes, those were great times indeed. Will we get snow this year? I suppose this remains to be seen. I just hope those weather folks do their job and conjure up a good one. If it does occur, walk outside during the height of the storm and listen to the quietness and the solitude it offers. Rest assured; it won’t be long until the kids are out in full force doing everything, they can to destroy the winter bliss. I hope they have a blast.
Until next time enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.
