Today I am grateful for snowmen. I have made a lot of snowmen in my day and was reminded of this when we drove past a house with a whole snow family on the front yard. Each was dressed/decorated like a family member. Very cute.
Growing up in Wisconsin I had plenty of opportunities and material to build with. My sister and I and our friends would roll that bottom ball until it was taller than we were. Then when we made the second ball we had to use a wooden plank from our dad’s shed to roll that thing in place. By the time we got the head done the step ladder was out. Building a snowman was serious business back then. You had to have the biggest one on the block or freeze to death trying.
One time when I visited my mom in Arizona, we drove to the mountains and there was a little bit of snow on the ground. She did not feel able to hiking to the edge of the butte to see the view, but when we got back to the car, there was a fine snowman standing right on the hood of our car. . .and every car in the lot. She hates snow, yet loves snowmen. Like someone who loves spaghetti sauce but not tomatoes. Or loves peas, but hates pea soup. Or loves color, yet everything in their house is white. Life is full of oddities like this.
I don’t see to many snowmen these days. Probably because there isn’t an App for them. People would actually have to pull themselves away from their electronics, turn off the TV, bundle up and go out in the cold for a few hours. Their cheeks would burn from the wind and their eyeballs would threaten to water out of their heads. Their boots would get so heavy and wet that they would suction off with a plopping sound like something caught in a vacuum hose if they stepped in too big of a snowbank. Then they’d stand on one leg like a disoriented flamingo, soggy sock dangling, while someone else dug their boot out of the bank. Two pairs of mittens wouldn’t be enough and gloves would be useless.
Moms would have to deal with piles of caked ice on hats and gloves. There are few radiators around for them to lay on to dry. She’d holler to stop tracking her clean house full of ice and salt and sand. . .then she’d make hot cocoa from real milk, with real chocolate, and admire our handiwork from the kitchen window. Anxious kids would drink too fast, forgetting to “blow on it first” then burn their tongues and cheeks. Ah, those were the good ol’ days.
So I am issuing a challenge to those of you with kids or grandkids nearby. If you live anywhere near snow, and are physically able. . .bundle up, head outside and build a snowman or two. Get creative! You don’t even have to keep it clean. Then take a picture and post it so I can tell my mom about them. We will both be very grateful.