Happy Winter

The following poem was written by my grandmother, approximately in the 1960's. She was born in 1900, so she experienced many various types of winter travel.
She loved the snow. One time when I spent the night at her house we woke up to find it had snowed almost two feet overnight. As we looked out at the new fallen snow she told me that one of her favorite things was to get up in the morning after a night of snow, just like this, and look out her bedroom window to see the soft white blanket unmarked by snowplows or tire tracks or footprints of any kind.
I have to admit, I saw a childlike twinkle in her eye as she gazed out that window. For a brief moment I was sure she was no longer standing there beside me, but was instead, outside playing in the snow as she had so many times as a child.

Snow

"How beautiful the snow!", we used to shout with glee.
But those were horse and buggy days, and traveling , you see,
was not the menace it is now, with danger everywhere.
On highways long and icy streets the motorists must share.

But still the snow is beautiful, all children will agree,
when sledding and snowball battles are the order of the day.
And then there's snowmen to be built, and forts and tunnels too.
And surely there is not one child, has nothing he can do.

When roads blow shut and we're shut in, and surely can't get out,
we sit in cozy homes content, and never think to pout,
about the piling of the snow; these troubles are with-out.
With-in there's warmth and well cooked meals, and we can go about,
doing the things we like to do because we can't get out.

But when the snowplow comes along, we all are glad to see,
our shut-in days are over, and to this we all agree.

by Mildred Lenhart

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After all this snow you could probably use a nice warm bear hug.
Well what are ya waitin for? Come on over and get one!

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Playing: Winter Wonderland

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