Shine is off the Snow
Shine is off the Snow
12 January 2011
The Prince Consort, my husband, and The Professor, our daughter, are native Floridians. The first winter they got snow (We’d moved to Birmingham, AL), they were all about getting out to play in it. We were ill-prepared, but made do. It takes about twenty-two layers of clothing, socks, and rain boots to outfit a Floridian. This is a formula that has never changed for the Prince Consort.
Once they were dressed, and somewhat able to bend their arms and legs, they were ready to sled. But we didn’t have one. Unfortunately at this point, I lost track of them. Next thing I know, hours have passed, they’re back, and my cookie sheet count is down to zero. Unless I can balance cookie dough on a dented twisted rectangle.
Snow turned the Prince Consort into a cat. At the door. Had to go OUT!
He’s kept that enthusiasm for all these years. The Professor however has tempered hers. She was still good with snow through her undergrad and working years in Nashville. And into day one of the snow when she moved to New Haven, CT for her doctorate. I believe by day three, the shine was off the slush.
As I said, native Floridian The Prince Consort, loves the snow. Or did. For the seven years we’ve lived in central KY, we’ve gotten about two snowfalls a year. Big excitement. Sledding on the real live sleds we bought first thing.
Until this year. We have had an unusual winter. Snow has been on the ground since the first days of December. Oddly we have not been sledding yet. I think the days and days of snow have frozen TPC. He wears his outdoors coat inside. (I swear I do not have the thermostat set below freezing.) Perhaps the unending days of white on the ground have gotten to him.
Last evening I decided a snowman was the best idea in the world. But you have to be delicate or cagey when dealing with a frozen Floridian. So I took the round about route and started with proposing we go sledding. He nixed it. Which left my move to be disappointed and ask for what I really had in mind.
“Let’s build a snowman!” He agreed, but mainly because it was already dark, and he was pretty sure even I wasn’t crazy enough to stand outside rolling balls in the snow with coyotes barking down the hill.
So this morning was snowman building day. I picked up branches the wind blew down yesterday for arms, and had selected one of the Prince Consort’s ball caps for the snow guy’s topper.
TPC dons his twenty-two layers, plus the ski mittens I finally remembered. And out we trod.
I scoop up a double handful of snow for the foundation snowman ball. And it disintegrates. The snow is the dry kind. No snowballs. No snowmen.
I turn around to deliver the sad news to the Prince Consort. He’s already through the front door shedding twenty of the twenty-two layers. I think the shine is off the snowflake.