That’s right. Winter is a gift. It’s all in a matter of how you look at it. I’ve spent most of my adult life bemoaning the challenges of cold, leafless landscapes and slippery drives on icy roads. I still don’t like those parts, but over the years, I have come to appreciate certain aspects to the coldest season that are appealing.
Back in the day, I took great pleasure in doing “donuts” with my car. For anyone unfamiliar with this sport, donuts are the spinouts a car does when the driver jams on the brakes while racing over icy pavement. Most of mine took place in vacant parking lots, thereby reducing the risk of escalating insurance premiums. to my thinking, donuts are still way better than cutting a hole in the ice and hovering over it on an upturned bucket while trying to snag some unsuspecting blue gill with a fishing lure.
That said, I have been known to venture out on frigid afternoons with snowshoes strapped on my boots. It’s a lot like hiking through the wilderness, albeit decked out head to toe in Cuddle Duds. There is something alluring about the stillness that descends with a fresh snowfall. No other season can duplicate its effect. Distractions are stripped away, the quiet encourages personal reflection. Lately, my thoughts have returned to wintertime thoughts of my childhood. My friends and I would play outside, building snowmen and snow forts until our moms forced us indoors to defrost.
I see that same exuberance in my grandson, who giddily positions himself in the path of spray from our snow thrower. He giggles as the melting fingers of snow run down his neck. He laughs when that snowball he just hurled at me lands smack in my face. He reminds me that the gift of winter is a blessing from God to share with our grandchildren, now and through the words we write in their memoirs.
How do you enjoy spending winter days with your grandchildren? I would really like to know. Follow me at SpiritualLegacyMemoir.com and leave a comment.
BarbHowe.org 