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 By now, the cold weather has announced its intention to stay,
like a relative who lives just outside of driving distance for a
same-day return trip home. Christmas is coming; I’m sure I’ll see my
share of such visitors. At least they won’t stay with me.
After enough coffee, I do a double-take as I look outside and
realize that the sky is not the only white feature to see. The
ground will look crisp and frozen, like the vegetables I
accidentally left on the top shelf of the refrigerator.
At this point, I will sigh. Great; the first snow of the season is
here.
Now I know what you’re thinking; even the most cantankerous among us
takes the first snow as a sign of joy. I don’t completely hate the
first snow. I’m just barely aware of it, especially when it sneaks
up on me in the night. But the love of the first snow will soon turn
to irritation; irritation at having to clean frost away from
windshields; anger at shoveling it from driveways; and frustration
with the fact that now everything will be wet until May.
At some point during the day I will look outside and see children
playing in the first snow. Even if it’s only an inch or two, someone
will try to do something with it. At least they won’t be in my yard.
 But I also know that for many people, including so many children,
the first snow is a precious memory. So I thought I would share a
few thoughts on the first snow, and how to make it memorable, even
if you’re a fellow curmudgeon.
The first step is always the hardest in any venture, including
braving the winter cold. Stepping outside into the snow and wind
always reminds me of why I wish I was inside. If I want ice, I’ll
open the freezer for a moment.
Normally, outside activities in the winter call for heavy coats,
woolen hats, and copious amounts of new mittens that have to be
purchased after losing last year’s set. Don’t even ask about
scarves; I have to relearn them every year; it’s like wearing a
giant, itchy tie.
But for a truly memorable first snow, consider this.
Make your first snow outfit weird. Make it something so
off-the-wall, you’ll never forget it. I recall a close friend who
once wore a kilt and ran five blocks in falling snow on a dare. He
returned bright red and shivering, but none of my friends will ever
forget that night. I’m sure he won’t forget it either, especially
the draft. I wonder if the neighbors remember it, too.
Snowmen have long been a staple of winter. For as long as I can
remember, popular culture loves to put snowmen in everything during
this time of year. Snowmen eventually give way to snowwomen, snow
animals, and snow families. I think my mother wanted one of those;
she had so many snowmen figurines and plush toys that we had to find
a box just for them. No joke.
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Snowmen are already memorable, especially when they start to melt.
That’s where I find joy in snow; when it melts. But for those of you
who want to make building the snowman memorable, I offer the same
thought as I did before. Make it weird.
Build the sort of snowy monstrosities that only a child’s
imagination can come up with. Give it two heads, four arms, and find
every carrot you can and decorate every inch of it. Don’t be afraid
to bring out the magic of the first snow. Just don’t give it a hat,
unless you’re really sure you want to risk the old fairy tale coming
true. I know I don’t. I don’t want company trailing water in my
house.
I’ve never actually made a snow angel. When I was young, I already
disliked snow enough to realize that falling backwards into it was a
bad idea. It was always hard to make one during the first snow,
since the first snow is usually just shallow enough to result in
grass strains on coat sleeves.
The memorable way to make a snow angel is to mess with it when
you’re done. Make the snow a blank canvas for the angel that fell on
it. Give it a face; give it a halo. Take us back to Halloween and
give it horns.
If I could make a snow angel, I think I would name him Clarence.
Maybe he would come to life and show me another world. Not another
world without me, mind you; just one where it only snows on
Christmas day and then promptly melts. That would be a Christmas
miracle.
A snowball fight is already memorable for most children in winter. A
good snowball fight calls for strategy. You have to know what to
hide behind, and just how packable the snow will be. There’s nothing
more disappointing than throwing a snowball that literally falls
apart in mid-air.
When I was a child, I had grand plans for snowball fights. I wanted
to build massive forts and hide secret stashes of snowballs. I
wasn’t one of the mean kids, and I didn’t try to get ice involved.
For any children out there, please don’t do that. It’s all fun and
games until someone has a black eye.
My plans never worked out for snowball fights. It took time to build
a snow fort, and I always had more fun designing the battlefield
than being on it. If I have any advice on snowball fights, it’s
this: be part of one, if you can. If you have children and they want
to play in the snow, go with them. There is always time for the
first snow. Besides, like everyone else, they will eventually learn
to hate the snow. We might as well make their early memory of winter
a good one.
In the meantime, I will stay inside for the first snow, as I always
do. I will make my own memories of staying warm and dry inside for
as long as humanly possible. I would ask you to join me, but only if
you wipe your feet first.
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