Trares
Nothing beats a snow day.
Peering out the windows at an unyielding blanket of white is a thrill I had forgotten. As a grown-up, 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.
The weather forecasters had been talking about it for days, and the anticipation was ramping up. Anthony would watch the TV news with me, listening intently about the coming winter storm, the timing and the likely inches we’d be getting.
“Do you think we’ll get to play outside in it?” he asked me.
This was a welcome change from the winter of 2024. Outside of a single Saturday morning of slushy, wet snow, we didn’t have a chance to get out and play in the cold. No zooming down the local hills on a sled, no snow forts or snowball fights.
Anthony bemoaned the snowless, warmer-than-normal winter. His sleek red sled and new snowman-themed inflatable tube sat unused in the garage. Frustratingly, the only other wintery precipitation we received that year came just as we were about to leave for a long weekend in Ohio, postponing our trip and leading to more than a little pouting.
But we had a feeling this winter would be different. Already, there had been some dustings of frozen powder in the yard, and even close to an inch in December. A big snowstorm was coming — we could feel it in our bones.
Those hopes came to fruition as January started, with the forecast of a major winter storm bearing down on 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 filled with people stocking up as if they would be snowed in for months at a time.
The timing of the storm was strange, too. Snow was supposed to start on Sunday, gradually building up throughout the day and peaking overnight. My wife and I would already be working from home, but Anthony was still on winter break from school, so there was no potential for a snow day.
Still, we watched carefully out the window for the first flakes to fall. A few flurries of white came down in early afternoon, which built and built until a steady curtain of snowflakes fell.
Anthony went to bed confident we’d be tromping through knee-high drifts in the morning.
And he wasn’t far off.
We woke on Monday morning to a blanket of white. Eight inches of powder turned out yard into a winter wonderland, and Anthony gasped when he looked outside.
“It looks like Alaska!” he exclaimed.
He was itching to get out and play, and once I could take a break from work, we bundled up to check it out. I unearthed his winter boots, waterproof snow pants, gloves, hat, winter coat and more in preparation for the cold. Once properly bundled, we waddled our way out.
Anthony was so excited he tried to run; he was so wrapped up in cold-weather gear that he only made it a few steps before plopping face-first into a snow drift.
His hysterical laughter belied just how happy he was.
After I had shoveled the driveway, we got right to games. Anthony wanted nothing more than a snowball fight, so we broke into teams — the Popsicles for him, the Polar Bears for me — and created bases of operation on opposite sides of the yard. I probably got him with a few more hits than he got me, but there was no doubt as we giggled and shouted that we were both winners.
We made a kind of bobsled track through the snow, packing it down with the sled first before I shoved Anthony down our backyard’s slope. He crashed more times than he completed the track, but couldn’t have been happier even as he tumbled over.
About of hour of playing and it was time to go back inside. We were cold, wet, tired, but happy.
Though we’ve still taken advantage of the snow the rest of this week, nothing compares to that first swath of untouched white that we found Monday afternoon.
Now we’re just waiting for the next storm to head our way. The sleds are ready, the boots are out, and the Popsicles and Polar Bears are ready for round two.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
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