Growing up in Southern California, the only thing I ever saw falling down in my yard the ash from the blow up of Mount St. Helens. Living in Central Texas, I’m not exactly in blizzard territory, but we do get snow every now and then, and it causes a lot of excitement. How much snow? Well, maybe an inch. How often? Once a year, or maybe every other year. Every time it happens becomes a big event around here. I know my Northern friends will laugh, but an inch of snow can cause schools to close and threats of a “big snow” can clear grocery shelves, which is really funny because the one time we actually weren’t able to drive, Christopher managed to walk the one mile to our local H.E.B. grocery store to get Maggie some medicine she needed.
I don’t have any pictures of that big snow, which was mostly inconvenient because our power went out for four days and we were new parents of a one year old who was sick. However, I have plenty of pictures of other snows, and our attempts to do snow play on a very limited amount of material.
The kids love snow days because they get out of school. I love them because they break me out of my routine. All schedules are off, and we get to enjoy the day together as a family, marveling at the beauty of the ice crystals and the wonder of our frosty breath. We always end a time outside with “snowman soup”: hot cocoa with marshmallows, mini chocolate chips and a candy cane. My memories of a Southern California childhood are full of playing outside at night and in the pool during the day. My children will have memories of pools and outdoor play, but they will also have snow.