Weather is coming. Starting tomorrow night a nor’easter is expected, a classic nor’easter. The forecast calls for heavy, wet snow and strong winds. Here on the cape we could get 8 to 12 inches of wet snow. I shutter at the thought. We still have snow on lawns and such from the last storm. It has been too cold for the snow to melt, but I do sense the coming of spring in the air, not from climate but from tradition. The Red Sox are on TV today.

When I was a kid, snow always brought anticipation. Would we get a day off from school? Would there be enough snow for sledding? We never gave thought about the mechanics of snow. That had nothing to do with us. That was my father’s job. He shoveled the front steps and walkway, the back steps and around the car to get it out. The plows came often. Giant snow piles were left on the sides of the roads. I remember the streets always had a snow layer, even after the plow.

My street was great for going, not coming. It was a hill. I’d ride my bike down the hill with my hair flying. I’d crouch from the wind, not knowing I was practicing aerodynamics. I just had to be watchful for cars on the street at the end of the hill. Pedaling up the hill was never easy. I often stood up on the pedals hoping for extra power. Many times I didn’t make it all the way.

Sledding was wonderful on the hill. I’d pull my sled a short way from my house to the top, get it poised in just the right spot then jump on the sled stomach first, legs in the air. I’d fly. My hands steered using the metal piece at the front of the sled. We whizzed down the hill but still wary of the cars on the street at the end. Going back up the hill meant using the sled rope to pull the sled all the way back to the top. I remember the rope would get clumps of snow stuck to it as did my mittens. They’d feel so heavy on my hands. We’d sled all day. When I was finished, I’d push my sled upright into the snow, leave it there in the backyard, slide down the snow covered steps to the cellar where I’d shed my winter clothes and hang them up to dry. I’d put on warm, dry clothes. When I went upstairs, my ,mother sometimes made us hot chocolate. I remember holding the cup with both hands so they’d get warm.

I have to go out today. I have an errand and a bit of shopping. I’m thinking storm goodies, maybe even some pizza.

This entry was posted on February 21, 2026 at 10:50 am and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.