The First Snow Is Early

It's not even Halloween and already flakes are falling.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE IT.  I love the winter, I love the cold weather, and I love the snow.  To ski, to play in, and even just to look at, the snow always makes me feel more alive, and more serene.

My Dad hated it, and still does.  He viewed it as an annoyance, an element of nature that had to be shoveled, plowed, and fought through.  Winter is never his time.  He is a true summer guy and has been throughout his life.  This is not hard to understand considering where he grew up in Jamesport, Long Island.  His back yard was the gorgeous Peconic Bay, and his play toys were boats that he and his father made.  Whether it was by sail or by power, or on a ship, the water has always been his playground and even his office.

But the coming snow also always makes me reminisce to when I was young working with my Dad to help remove his nemesis.  We had a big and very old International Harvester traktor with a plow and chains on huge spiked tires.  I was so proud and psyched to come to the age when Dad let me hop in the driver seat and take over the plowing.  It was COLD, but driving the snow off of our long driveway was an all consuming task that kept the cold far from my mind.

I remember my Pop's winter work coat.  It was a brown thing with a fuzzy lining.  I remember his gloves and how his glasses fogged when he first went outside.  I remember the black winter hat that he wore to the office, a black fuzzy persian envoy.  I remember him sharpening the blades on my sled for a little more speed, and falling flat on his back once when he pushed a whole group of kids down Horseneck Path.

I am so grateful for all of these memories.  I am so grateful that I get to reminisce with my Dad as the first snows of 2011 start to come down.  The flakes may not stick today, but the memories they conjure will stick in my mind forever.