Monday, December 7, 2009

Let it snow! Let is snow! Let it snow!

We woke up to a fresh, thick blanket of snow today.

Glory be! I love snow at Christmas time!

It began last night. Poor Tyler was at a study session group at the library for finals. The girls and I turned off all the lights except for the various twinkling Christmas lights on the tree and around the house, piled up the blankets next to our sliding glass kitchen door, and sat and watched the flakes fall in amazement. We sang some Christmas carols too (well, actually only one...London refused to listen to any others while incessantly demanding a repeat of 'Up on the Housetop'. She loves to bounce and sing the "ho ho ho" part while she cups her hands around her mouth).

We made cookies too.
Because that is what you must do when it is snowing.

It was insanely cozy.

Waking up to the fresh snow reminded me of a time when I was little. It was early in the morning and my siblings and I excitedly woke up to a fresh coat of snow like this one (Jacob always being the most excited). The farm was so beautiful blanketed in white. The orchard trees hung low and each fence rail surrounding the yard was iced with sparkly white. Our property was proudly titled "The Farm" since the very beginning, even though it was hardly a farm. We didn't raise any crops or any meaningful amount of animals. My Mom always said the only thing our farm raised was children (ain't that the truth...I was the second oldest of eight f.y.i....most of you probably already knew that). To a passer-by, our property seemed to be just that, a land filled with children scattered, cropping up out of nowhere, running around (often naked, too).

And let me tell you, The Farm was the best place to raise children. Especially on a snowy day like this one.

Unfortunately, school this day was not cancelled.

We loaded into my Dad's white plumbing van and assembled in our proper order (at this point only three of us were old enough to attend school). Daniel and Rachel shared the passenger seat, Jacob sat on a bucket (literally, and truly, a white bucket) tipped upside down, stuffed in the middle. Safety anyone? Not in the early nineties apparently, either that or The Farm had produced
enough children to spare a few.

We would brace ourselves as we would clunk down the dirt road (I've told you about this one before) with the unforgettable rattling of metal pipes and fittings ringing in our ears, till we'd finally hit pavement, and then drive the next 20 miles to the private school we were attending. I laugh now. There were schools much closer. But my parents wanted us at this one because they thought it was a really good school. So thirty miles to school every morning it was. We would pull up in the white plumbing van laced with huge pipes protruding off of the roof, right along side with the other private school children in their BMW Suv(s).* (Don't worry, it only got painfully embarrassing by the time we were in high school).

This particular morning, we reached the end of the snowy dirt road, and my Dad announced, "Forget it. I'm taking you kids home."

We squealed in joy and excitement.

When we walked back into the door my Mom exclaimed,

"Oh good! I was just thinking I wish we hadn't sent you."

We had our very own snow day.

One just like today.

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