Homesick

Snow doesn't appear often here in central Illinois. This weeks flurries made me long for a caravan up the mountain and a swooshy ride back down. A snowman was all we could muster.

Thundersnow

I fully expect this post to blow your mind. It begins at my office on Monday morning when the girls start exclaiming, "The storm has begun."

Me? I had no idea we were in need of a storm. Actually I was planning this whole clean-the-house-before-picking-up-skip thing. And no where in there do you read snow or storm. A couple hours later when my home visit canceled I just knew I would accomplish the cleaning thing and be in the clear. Oh wait. Did I mention that the storm was supposed to get worse and lock down loomed? I didn't because I didn't believe it. I went home, took a nap, cleaned a little, talked to Skip (whose flight was delayed a bit) and finally he convinced me to prepare for the storm.

Whoops. Everyone had cleaned out the basics. No bread, no milk, no OJ, no bananas, no potatoes, no anything unless you're a big fan of taco flavored Doritos. Those they had. So I bought some Capt'n Crunch and called it good. Then I went home, switched cars so I'd have 4-wheel capabilities and took off to the airport.

I forgot my written directions and managed to miss a turn and drive by the little airport. After a couple off-road illegal turns (one in front of a cop) I corrected my error and made it to the boy. The boy whose luggage had missed the flight. What do you do in an empty snowstorm airport when your luggage disappeared? I'm not sure but your wife sits in the car counting the inches of snow on the windshield.

Fine, it wasn't that bad yet, but I don't see well at night so it appeared to be much worse. We made it home, somehow. I have yet to take the same route anywhere here. And we laughed at the "storm". Then the morning came and we laughed some more. Two hours later we started to wonder. And then we realized that we'd have to FJ through the snow to get to WalMart (which stated that they would not close at all) to pick up a few essentials. Like some canned goods, fresh fruit, and toilet paper. I didn't want to be unprepared there. After coming home with red hots and chocolates we settled in for a good time.

The snow didn't seem like much but the wind fiercely blew and created amazing drifts around our window, cars, trees and the tree limbs that had broken off. And in the midst of Skip opening the door every three minutes to check out the blizzard we saw a bright flash and heard a long loud rumble, thundersnow had arrived. Kind of awesome. Even better that we didn't really believe it, especially me, until I read in the paper that lightening struck the emergency center and all their equipment rendered useless for the storm.

By now you're wondering if I'm writing this from the grave. I am not. Other than the lightening and thunder our street and town missed any crazy happenings. In fact the next day Skip dug out our driveway in a record ten minutes while I built a lounge snowchair on our porch. Then we FJ'd down the road and through the foot of snow at a friend's house.

P.S. Illinois snow hurts. I dove into it and the ice felt like little blasts of glass embedded in my skin. Not the fluffy fun at the ski resorts.

Snow Snow Go Away!

I get that global warming has the seasons all screwed up, but the key word is WARMing. I thought that meant I'd be pulling out the shorts a few days in December, bundle up for January and February, and back in flip-flops by March.

Not quite. We took a little Meet the Fockers road trip to Denver. (Literally if you know those movies he met the parents, I met the Fockers.) On the way there we had to drive over Vail Pass late into the midnight hour. A huge blunder in the winter but not a definite worry in late May. Whoops. We drove through a spring storm. As Skip cursed our luck I kept thinking my brother Phil would've killed me, and also would have checked the weather.

A few sunny and warm days in Colorado and we were back on the road. We got another late-ish start but figured we'd be fine since Vail would be conquered during the afternoon heat. And we were until the midnight hours in Spanish Fork Canyon. What started as rain left a white blanket covering the flowers.

My motivation for the day died when I woke up this morning knowing that I could not wear shorts and snowboard season ended months ago. Global warming? Not all it's cracked up to be.

First Snow

However unprepared I am for frozen toes (some years I've been wearing flip-flops) I'm always curiously smitten with the first snow.


It's Mother Nature teasing us. The trees slowly shed their leaves which line the sidewalks and streets in fall-patterned wrapping paper. Flowers burst with a final glimpse of color before the browns, grays and blues of winter settle in. The evening's chill lasts far into the next day's sun. And then you wake up to snow.

The heavy moisture laden flakes joined in a small snowball gently lobbed from the sky. Plastering the leaves. Smashing the flowers so the blooms droop. Soaking the streets and smothering the green grass.

Ohhh Mother Nature, she found a way to make a super-soaker relevant in the 30 degree weather.

Feeling 50, Looking 15

“OK Group 5 this is our last run. You’re all doing great but remember to watch out for beginners, they don’t know how to handle their equipment.”

With a wicked grin I turned to Travis and raised my hand. I managed to get my thumb to my jaw before bursting into laughter. I’m sure Trav felt the bench shake, just as I’m sure more than six guys stared at me. I only hope that my new snowboard friend saw me as well and thought I laughed at him.

The lifts opened yesterday and we dragged ourselves up to the mountains hoping for snow. I think the 33” mentioned on the website meant they combined all the snow in front of the lodge and built a snowman of such height. But this year I’m determined to conquer the heel-side and to do I will need every available day.

I made it down the one packed trail with a little snow and plenty of people, which helped block out the numerous trees. The trees covered in snow look like soft mounds of fun, bare I see them as prickly death sticks that I am destined to meet spread-eagle. I took a couple tumbles dodging fate. My acrobatics caused me to look young and uncoordinated and each time a creaked back up I imagined my chiropractor’s face twisted in horror at the damage I’d done. One lucky run I decided to regroup by stretching my legs out near the bottom hopeful that I’d appear to be waiting for my friends and that my toe would stop tingling.

I got one out of two. Moments after stopping a young high school boy waved at me and asked if I came up with anyone. I explained that I did have people watching for me but in my slow awkward decent I had told my friends to go on without me. I didn’t realize that was the green light he’d wanted.

“You can ride down with me and I’ll help you. I can teach you how to ride,” he grinned.

No, I thought, you can’t there is an obvious generation gap. Except that it wasn’t obvious as my mouth betrayed me by laughingly saying, “It would be a long trip, I’m not good I struggle.”

His grin spread, at the challenge I’m sure, and he told he’d wait for me at the lifts. He did right in front of Travis. When I slid up between them Trav started excitedly talking about his adventures and asking about mine. I bit my lip to suppress a rising giggle and watched as my new friend told me he’d see me on the top of the slope. And he did. He rode up behind us, waited for me as I sat beside Trav and adjusted my boots (really it is awful trying to concentrate while worrying your toe will need amputation), and watched as a burst into laughter in the middle of Group 5’s instructions. Then he waved good-bye and left me.

Being hot and young enough for a high school kid shouldn’t bring so much joy, but on the cusp of losing another year to old age it was a boost.