The view from the top
Someone asked me recently what happened to the snow in my hometown during or after a big snowfall. I’m sure there was an overall city plan for snow removal. I vaguely recall some snow being dumped in the Lake.
But what I remember most was the piles at the side of the road…getting higher and higher. I remember climbing the mounds of white (and not so white), my feet-in-boots slipping through the outer crust. Sinking in to my knees as I pushed my way to the top. I remember impromptu snow slides. Forts. Snowballs. Clutching the top of a bus stop sign - usually inaccessible - now made reachable by the change in elevation. I remember the view. The smells and the sounds. Cars driving by and kids on their way home and slush swishing at the corners. When the snow fell in heaps, I was tall, and happy.
But what I remember most was the piles at the side of the road…getting higher and higher. I remember climbing the mounds of white (and not so white), my feet-in-boots slipping through the outer crust. Sinking in to my knees as I pushed my way to the top. I remember impromptu snow slides. Forts. Snowballs. Clutching the top of a bus stop sign - usually inaccessible - now made reachable by the change in elevation. I remember the view. The smells and the sounds. Cars driving by and kids on their way home and slush swishing at the corners. When the snow fell in heaps, I was tall, and happy.