I’m forced to write this blog. And why is that you ask. Well because there’s nothing else to do. The snow is falling and the wind is blowing, I’ve finished my library book and there’s nothing on the television that strikes my fancy. So as the snow piles up I’m going to spend a little time visiting with you. 🙂

I feel sorry for those ‘snowbirds’ that escape to the southern climates because they are missing a good old fashioned Minnesota blizzard. I bet if those ‘snowbirds’ were really honest there’s a part of them that would like to escape the sunny, warm south just for a day. Oh to be able to curl up in the old recliner, wrapped in a blanket next to a roaring fire watching monstrous snow drifts growing across your driveway. 🙂

The first snowstorms I can remember were when I was in the 1st and 2nd grades. We lived in the country on a township road which was always last to get plowed. School was always closed during the peak of the blizzard but would open sometimes before all the roads were plowed. If we wanted to catch the school bus we would have to walk a mile to the nearest county road. When I was in the second grade I was probably three foot five and 60 pounds so I wasn’t much of a candidate to make that walk.

Harold was our neighbor and he saved the day. He had a couple of old work horses that had been retired as tractors had taken their place to work the fields. He hitched the horses to an old wooden sled and all of us kids piled in, pulled blankets over ourselves and enjoyed a  mile sled ride to the county road where the school bus was waiting for us.

When school let out in the afternoon we climbed aboard the bus and peered out the window as our snowdrift-filled township road appeared. Sure enough there stood the pair of work horses and Harold and my Dad sitting on the old, wooden sled smoking cigarettes and talking about the news the women of the house had picked up ‘rubber-necking’ on the telephone. (If you are under sixty years of age you may need an older person to explain that ‘rubber-necking’ thing.)

I still have a guilty conscience about one of those blizzards. One morning after we had arrived at school a storm blew in and since the roads were still open my Dad and Harold drove a car in to pick us up rather than wait for the school bus to deliver us home.

Harold asked us if any other parents had picked their kids up and of course I said, “Oh, yes, some had.” Now I’m not quite sure why I’d answered that way because no one else had. I think I wanted to make Harold feel like he wasn’t the only worried Dad. Then of course he wanted to know who else had been bailing their kids out of school early.

So what did I do. I told another white lie. I said my classmate Janice and her brothers and sisters got picked up too. Those lies have remained undiscovered all these years and you know it feels good to get the truth out. This blogging can be good for the soul. 🙂

The blizzards in the 50’s and 60’s were much more frequent and much more powerful than the blizzards we experience today. I can still remember my ear-lapper cap pulled down over my head and a scarf wrapped over my mouth and nose. We ducked our head into the wind as we headed to the barn for the evening milking.

The wind was so powerful it sometimes blew us over. It actually took our breath away as we struggled to reach the barn. All these years later I can still remember the feeling of opening the barn door and stepping into the interior with its sudden stillness.

We were greeted by the warmth generated by the dozen milk cows. Also the aroma of silage mixed with the smells of manure and alfalfa hay. A half dozen to a dozen cats greeted us each one meowing knowing milking time meant warm milk for them.

My final basketball game my senior year was almost ruined by a blizzard.  The Clinton Rockets were going to face the Graceville Shamrocks for 3rd place in the sub-district playoffs. Can you imagine your high school mascot being a plant? Graceville was at that time 80% Irish so that explains their photosynthetic leanings. 🙂

The blizzard was over but there was a lot of ground drifting and our township road was once again blocked. There was no way for me to drive to the game. Snowmobiles hadn’t been invented yet so I was in a pickle.

Since it was my last game of my high school career I knew Coach Jerdee would start all the seniors. During the season I had been the first guard off the bench so an opportunity to start was something I didn’t want to miss.

Than a brainstorm hit me! The Mills family lived a mile across the field from our farm. I called them on the phone and asked them if I could ride into town with them after I had walked the mile across several farm fields. They were happy to help me out so I made the one mile trek with the wind and hitchhiked into town with them.

I did start my last high school basketball game which made me very happy. However, my performance was not stellar. I think that mile hike across those farm fields wore me down. Had snowmobiles been available back then and I had rode one to the Mill’s farm my game stamina would have been off the charts. Who knows where my basketball career would have ended up.

There might have been a college scout in the stands that night and he might have been impressed. Who can say “Big Ten Basketball”! 🙂

I’m worried about this climate change thing that scientists and politicians are grappling with. I hope it ends up being a bunch of ‘hot air’ just not so hot that I can’t enjoy a good old fashioned blizzard a couple times each winter. 🙂

Until next time.