We went up to the snows
on Mount Hood, a currently dormant volcanic mountain about 70 miles east of here, to take the kids to play in the snow yesterday. The snow line was about 4500 feet elevation and we were about 5500 feet up below Timberline lodge. Pat had to work at 3:00, but we figured by keeping the foot down, we could get there and back in time.
We found a place we could pull over and park with an eagle eye out for no-parking enforcement, and let the sprouts jump in the snow. The snow was about 4-6 feet deep up there, burying small trees but not the outrages of recent visitors. "Bury it, dudes! Bring a shovel, or keep a bucket in the car, OK? It's not gonna decompose for a couple of years, Crumbs."
But managing to avoid the brown spots we slid down the hillsides on our bottoms, broke trail up the slopes, filled our boots and socks and pantaloons with snow.
A fellow visitor lent us their plastic skid toboggan, and we took a trip down the hillside, me in front, the girls behind, and attained sufficient V--hat flew off- to pitch us all face first into a drift, and give us a chase down the hill after the skid... I came out looking like a snowman, D. Keerati had her snow pants on, and Bet Yeager squealed her delight in parka, dress, shorts, and long socks!
So added to pants, et.al., sleeves were filled with snow, coat was filled with snow; B. Yeager handed me my hat filled with snow- "I filled it for you, Daddy!" and we went back to the car to get Pat to her new job.
We got in the car, found myself sitting on frozen pants. DK, complaining of cold hands, gave me my gloves back, of course fingers full of snow...
We found a place we could pull over and park with an eagle eye out for no-parking enforcement, and let the sprouts jump in the snow. The snow was about 4-6 feet deep up there, burying small trees but not the outrages of recent visitors. "Bury it, dudes! Bring a shovel, or keep a bucket in the car, OK? It's not gonna decompose for a couple of years, Crumbs."
But managing to avoid the brown spots we slid down the hillsides on our bottoms, broke trail up the slopes, filled our boots and socks and pantaloons with snow.
A fellow visitor lent us their plastic skid toboggan, and we took a trip down the hillside, me in front, the girls behind, and attained sufficient V--hat flew off- to pitch us all face first into a drift, and give us a chase down the hill after the skid... I came out looking like a snowman, D. Keerati had her snow pants on, and Bet Yeager squealed her delight in parka, dress, shorts, and long socks!
So added to pants, et.al., sleeves were filled with snow, coat was filled with snow; B. Yeager handed me my hat filled with snow- "I filled it for you, Daddy!" and we went back to the car to get Pat to her new job.
We got in the car, found myself sitting on frozen pants. DK, complaining of cold hands, gave me my gloves back, of course fingers full of snow...