Beam
Nothing beats a snow day.
Looking out the windows at an unwavering blanket of white is a thrill I had forgotten. As an adult, you lose touch with the unbridled fun that follows a few inches of snow.
Anthony was more than happy to remind me all about it.
Weather forecasters had been talking about it for days and anticipation was building. Anthony watched the TV news with me, listening intently to the coming winter storm, the time, and the possible inches we would get.
“Do you think we’ll play outside in it?” he asked me.
This was a welcome change from the winter of 2024. Outside of a single slushy, wet snowy Saturday morning, we didn’t get a chance to go out and play in the cold. No zooming down local hills on a sled, no snow forts or snowball fights.
Anthony lamented the snowless, warmer than normal winter. His sleek red snowman themed inflatable tube sat unused in the garage. Disappointingly, the only other winter precipitation we got that year came just as we were about to leave for a long weekend in Ohio, delaying our trip and leading to more than a little numbness.
But we had a feeling this winter would be different. Already, there had been a few dustings of frozen dust in the yard, and even close to an inch in December. A huge snowstorm was coming – we could feel it in our bones.
Those hopes were realized in early January, with the forecast of a major winter storm to hit central Indiana. The impact was all over the place, from a few inches to more than 10. A routine trip to the grocery store for a few items we needed for the weekend turned out to be a mistake, as the aisles were packed with people huddled together as if they were going to fall. snow for months.
The timing of the storm was also odd. Snow was supposed to begin Sunday, gradually increasing throughout the day and peaking overnight. My wife and I were already going to work from home, but Anthony was still on winter break from school, so there was no chance of a snow day.
However, we watched carefully from the window for the first flakes to fall. A few white flocks descended in the early afternoon, which built and built until a steady curtain of snowflakes fell.
Anthony went to bed confident that we would be knee-deep in motion in the morning.
And he wasn’t far away.
We woke up Monday morning to a white blanket. Eight inches of dust turned the yard into a winter wonderland, and Anthony gasped when he looked outside.
“Looks like Alaska!” he shouted.
He was itching to get out and play, and as soon as I could take a break from work, we got together to check on him. I discovered his winter boots, waterproof snow pants, gloves, hat, winter coat and more in preparation for the cold. After getting properly packed, we walked out.
Anthony was so excited that he tried to run; he was so wrapped up in cold weather gear that he only took a few steps before crashing face first into a snow slide.
His hysterical laughter belied how happy he was.
After I shoveled the driveway, we went right to the games. Anthony wanted nothing more than a snowball fight, so we split into teams—Popsicles for him, Polar Bears for me—and set up bases of operation on opposite sides of the yard. I probably took him a few more shots than he did me, but there was no doubt as we laughed and shouted that we were both winners.
We did a sort of toboggan run through the snow, sled packing at first before I pushed Anthony down the slope of our yard. He crashed more times than he finished the track, but he couldn’t be happier even when he crashed.
About an hour of play and it was time to go back inside. We were cold, wet, tired, but happy.
Although we’ve still benefited from snow the rest of this week, nothing compares to that first patch of pristine white we found on Monday afternoon.
Now we are just waiting for the next storm to come our way. The coasters are ready, the boots are out, and the Popsicles and Polar Bears are ready for round two.
Ryan Trares is a reporter and senior columnist for the Daily Journal. Send feedback to [email protected].
