The Ghost of Snow Days Past

This morning, I woke up with a tight feeling across my entire body, which I usually experience when the weather is about to change. I was reluctant to leave my comfortable bed, and I knew, before ever checking the news, that it was going to be cold. I was right. 30f all morning, and as of about an hour ago, snowing. This is the first snow of the season. While I doubt it will stick to the roads or sidewalks for at least a few more weeks, I know that I am on borrowed time until I will need to replace my worn-through snow boots and dig out the bulky coats. I've always loved colder weather, although I would never say no to a warm, overcast day, especially if there is a cool breeze... I would consider myself a "selectively Autumn" kind of person.

When I was younger, I would always look forward to winter. I could put on my coat, boots, and several layers of pants, escape into the snowy woods for hours at a time, and have no worry of being attacked by wild animals or irritated by certain plants. For much of my life, I have lived in places where this habit was easily accomplished, and my mildly asocial behavior would be encouraged, as long as I remembered to come back every few hours to prove to my mother that I hadn't frozen to death yet (although, even this could be avoided if I dragged any one of my six siblings along with me in a buddy system, usually my twin sister). I have many fond memories of laying in the snow until the sky began to darken, so insulated that I barely felt the cold, or so numb already that it didn't bother me. There's nothing as beautiful as the night sky in winter from my hometown, where the light pollution is minimal, and I could truly be on my own for as long as my body could stand, just watching the sun set and the sky darken. I would pull my arms and face into my coat, and peek out, conserving warmth like some type of brightly colored polar bear. Thinking about it now, I am experiencing the kind of melancholy that is only possible when you know that you will never go back to it. I can still bundle up and lay in the snow, but I'm not a child anymore. My body is not capable of the hours of exploration and contemplation that I was once able to do. A small convenience store recently was built near my rural home, and the night sky has changed. Although it is only one store, it's harder to see the stars. The last time I was home, I could barely make out any constellations. 

Snow laden midnight walks may have changed, but other things have stayed exactly the same. In my region, we make snow ice cream. I'm not sure if they do it in other places, but it is something that I was raised on. It consists of fresh powdery snow, sweetened condensed milk, and a small dash of vanilla, which is all mixed together and eaten as fast as possible. It is something that must be made fresh, and it cannot be refrozen. It was always a definitive part of the first snow experience, and I can recall a particularly dire blizzard in which my mother would send my siblings and I out to collect snow, in an attempt to keep us hydrated. To make it more interesting, we made much of it into snow ice cream. I haven't had it in years, but I suspect that the flavor is exactly like I remember it, but it is possible that my adult palate will not find it as satisfying as I once did.

Between wandering, lost in the forest, and eating pollution contaminated precipitation, I was never bored when the weather turned for the worse. These days, though, I find myself much preferring a warm bed, a cup of hot coffee, and an interesting book. My childhood habits will likely stick around, as timeless as they are. I'm sure my ancestors did the same things I did when they were young, and I'm sure future children will do them as well, as long as the snow stays safe to eat and the stars stay visible. Humanity has an instinctual desire to explore the world around them, and an even more instinctual desire to enjoy delicious treats with the people they love. These traditions are not going anywhere, even if I may not partake as often as I used to.