Snow Reflections

by Lorraine Kaul

When I see the snowfall, especially when we get a deep accumulation, memories of hot chocolate and popcorn come to mind, immediately followed by hot cinnamon-seasoned apple cider with chocolate chip or peanut butter cookies. I can almost feel the heavy hand-pottered mug resting firmly in my hand, relishing the warmth before slowly and mindfully sipping the savory and soothing winter potion.

Then when I sit long enough in reflection, watching the beautiful snowflakes drifting and meandering aimlessly through the blueish and hazy gray sky, my mood can shift from serene tranquility to memories of my youth, conjuring creative snow frolics. I was a merriment master, always ready to take on the snow. Although I occasionally engaged in traditional winter play, like snow battles, tubing, sledding, or making boring snow angels, I usually preferred to put a twist on tradition and engage in more challenging, creative, and sometimes amusing play.

I will never forget making snow ice cream as a child. When I was around ten, I invited my friend over to play. After building a snow fort, we collected snow to make ice cream. I told her to sit on my porch while I went inside and made the homemade snow ice cream. She happily complied. The treat was easy to make by mixing snow, milk, vanilla, and sugar. Our parents instructed kids who made snow ice cream to remove the first layer of snow and only use snow from the middle layers. Collecting only the middle layers would ensure that our snow was clean. Later, the parents banned snow ice cream altogether when they learned the Russians were testing nuclear weapons causing radio-active fallout to enter the jet stream, making its way to the US. I remember being afraid to defy that directive.

Before the ban, I created a memorable moment for my friend. I returned to the porch with two large dishes piled high with white, creamy, luscious, vanilla snow ice cream—one bowl for each of us. There was one slight difference in the preparation. I had placed a tiny dot of yellow food coloring that seeped slightly through some of the snow in the bottom of her bowl. I then loaded the rest of the bowl up with the white snow.

When my friend was nearing the bottom of her bowl, she noticed a slight yellowing color appear. She shrieked and said, what is thaaat? I think she had the idea. I responded, in equal alarm, using all the theatrics I could conjure, with wide-eyed surprise and hand raised over my mouth, I gasped, Oh my God! Mom told me to watch out for dog pee. I swear, I didn’t see it! Did you eat much of the yellow part? She said I don't know, maybe a little. She jumped up and ran to wash out her mouth. I followed her, but when I saw tears in her eyes, I realized my joke had gone too far. I laughed loudly and confessed, "I was just kidding; it's food coloring!” still waiting for her response. I was naturally surprised when she, too, burst out laughing. I assume she was so relieved that she didn’t consume the dog urine that the rage I expected dissipated. Snow pranks can be amusing and much more fun than making snow angels. My friend reminded me of that time years later. Now, I think of it often when snow falls. It still makes me smile.

Car Hopping was one of my Mom's most forbidden winter activities, but also the most stimulating and challenging for me. One specific time, my Mom had just bought me a new pair of wool plaid pants and a matching sweater. I was supposed to wear the outfit to school and

change clothes when I arrive home. My Mom couldn't afford the dry cleaning bills for wool clothing, but because I walked three miles to my elementary school, she invested in wool to keep me warm. I had just arrived from school. My Mom was working. The snow and ice covered the ground and the road—perfect conditions for Car-Hooping. I couldn’t contain myself long enough to change out of my new wool pants.

The object of the Car-Hopping game was to hop a ride on the back of a car without the driver knowing. Car-Hopping required one to hide behind a parked car; when a moving car came down the road, the rider would quickly jump on and grab the car’s bumper, stoop on bended knees, balancing on one’s feet, while sliding down the road attached to the vehicle for as far as one could go, until losing balance or arriving at the destination. It was a bit of an athletic feat.

My Mom was afraid that I, or any kid doing it, would accidentally slide under the car and the tires. On this day, I lost my balance but managed to hold onto the car, letting it drag me on my stomach, arms stretched out hands still gripping, and legs fully extended behind. I rode until I reached my designation, then I released and rolled to the side of the road. That's how Somebody would do it. I was invigorated by the challenge and proud that I could hold on for the entire ride. I did not plan on the road tearing huge holes in my new expensive wool pants. My mother figured out quickly how the holes got there. My Mom grounded me for the entire week. Then the snow melted.

There was no snow when I lived in the desert of Tucson, Arizona. When I wanted snow, I went to the top of the snow-covered Mount Lemmon, with a summit elevation of 9,159 feet, the highest point in the Santa Catalina Mountains. There I made snowballs to bring down off the mountain to my desert home. I packed them in a cooler on ice. In the desert, the low temperature was 79 degrees. I stored the snowballs in my freezer until the perfect time to have a snowball battle with an unsuspecting victim with no weapons of defense. I had the full advantage. Blasting my friends with snowballs in the desert heat was snow fun in the sun!

I did engage in more constructive play. I made snow sculptures. Plain snowmen were boring, so I sculpted bears and farm animals, and when I made snow people, I used food coloring for rosy cheeks and lips. I added hats and other accessories to my creations. I carried this play into my adulthood. For years, I would make my daughter a surprise snow sculpture on the first moist snow. I did this all throughout most of her school years, including college breaks.

One snowy day, I made a psychedelic snow hippie. I made it with various colors of food coloring and used a mop replacement for the hair. I continue to make snow creations when weather conditions permit. Some things can't be left only for the young. Now also enjoy snow’s flurry, with a cup of calm in awe of the uniqueness of each snowflake that welcomes the season, perhaps without reason, except to rouse the slumbering memories of our life's journey.