There’s just something about squeaky snow that takes me back to my childhood. You know the sound–the temperature has to be very low, and the snow very dry–there is something just so satisfying and comforting about walking in this type of snow, like the snow is having a conversation with you. Every time I hear it I’m first shocked at the sound, then amused that I could have forgotten the sound, then carried away on a wave of nostalgia.
We lived very close to our elementary school. We walked to school every single day. Even kids who lived many blocks away walked to school. There was no bus and parents figured the fresh air was good for us. We would be bundled up like Ralphies’ little brother on A Christmas Story. The scene where the mom is wrapping the scarf in endless loops around her sons’ face was my childhood. I can remember peering out the slit between wraps, struggling to breath as my breath froze on the scarf making an impenetrable ice shield covering my mouth and nose. Pity the poor teacher who, at lunch and at the end of the day, had to dress and wrap up her entire class, because of course we walked home for lunch too.
Walking out to the bus early in the morning thru that squeaky snow always makes me smile.
The other day I saw a beautiful sliver of a moon. A line from one of my children’s books read: “… A moon as thin as a mouses’ whisker.” This is not my picture but this is what I saw. This is what my phone saw. Sigh. My cell phone camera tries, but it’s not a miracle worker. However I think it did a pretty good job capturing these sunrise/sunset shots. A little reward for living in such a brutal climate.