Snow Day!

Growing up in rural Iowa, no one batted an eye when inches (or feet) of snow were included in the forecast for the next day. No one rushed home early from work clogging up the streets, made a mad dash to the grocery stores buying all of the milk and bread in sight and no one abandoned their cars on the side of the road due to the frozen flakes falling from the sky (as people tend to do in Tennessee).

Snow days, the early years…

I'm a lotta help. But I look cute.

Helping Dad shovel the sidewalk. The broom was a big help.



School was never cancelled the night before an Iowa snowfall (in Tennessee, entire counties and districts will call off school if any meteorologist utters the word “snow” during the weather segment). Getting a snow day was about as possible as Martians landing in the community park.

So it was a rare treat when the phone (that was connected to the kitchen wall – oh the good ‘ol days) would ring in the wee hours of the morning announcing that school was cancelled (mostly because the buses couldn’t make the trip to get kids in the country).  Instead of sleeping in (like the lazy older kids – boring!), my sister and I would hurriedly jump up, put our snow gear on and head out to play in the wonderland of white (usually with our cousins, the Morris boys, who lived right across the street).

Documented below is one of the funnest snow days in history (well, my history).

First we got to sled in the road, which felt like we were breaking all kind of societal rules.

The dog.

My beloved dog Rocky – who always played side-by-side with us. And what about my mom’s kick ass cowboy boots for winter attire? So warm.

Second, my sister and I built snowmen, complete with cute accessories (mine came off of my body).

Sacrificing my warmth for a fashionable snow man...or maybe snow gal with the pink stocking hat.

Sacrificing my warmth for a fashionable snow man…or maybe snow gal with the pink stocking hat.  And Rocky, blending into the snow.

Then, the Morris boys thought it would be a good idea to dig a fort (such a dude suggestion) to Timbuktu.  I would rather have made snow angels and bedazzle snowmen but of course I agreed to help dig (as I had a cute shovel I wanted to use – and by I, I meant my cousin Derek. My nails have always been ‘jewels, not tools’ apparently).

Can we live here?

Can we live here?

I thought it was a miracle when my dad and Uncle Lewis came out to play with us, constructing a snow fort complete with a tunnel – diverting the dig to faraway lands (thank GOD).

All these years later, I want a snow day to build a fort with my cousins.  But then again, I live in a state that has snow days with no snow.



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