Winter Wonderland

This morning when I woke up I looked out my window. My view was up as I was lying in bed still. I noticed tiny icicles parading themselves like cave dwelling stalactites and snow laden evergreens standing tall and still, statues along the driveway.
When I was a kid I loved icicles and snow. My sisters and I would bundle up in 10 pounds of winter wear and tromp out the door with arms slightly raised from the bulk. We'd drag our sleds to the 2-foot incline at the edge of the yard and slide down--it felt like a thrill ride. We'd flop ourselves backward (our protective layers almost gave us a little bounce as we landed) and spread our arms and legs to create myriads of angels. We'd scoop handfuls of snow and press them to our cold-reddened lips and the taste was as good as cotton candy (we did know to avoid discolored snow). We'd break foot-long icicles from the car bumpers (I now realize how gross that was) and suck on them like Popsicles. We build lop-sided snowmen that looked as perfect as Frosty to our winter-colored eyes (children don't need rose-colored glasses to see beauty and perfection, they just need changes in the season). By the time we'd left our boot tracks all over the yard, our faces would be stinging cold and our bodies toasty warm.
I still find joy in the beauty of winter, but not the same unabandoned excitement of my childhood. I love how the soft, white powder muffles the noises outside and I love the freshness before it is mussed by passing cars and boot tracks. I even venture out in a sled every now and again (our hill is a bit more than 2-feet now). But I have to admit that winter has lost some of its magic because now I have to drive in it to work. I can now longer just stay at home and enjoy the winters in my own backyard.