Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

This week's snowfall makes me reminisce about where I grew up. Mostly, thinking of how warm California is in the winter. I have no problem with a place that doesn't snow during the winter season. I do remember that it rained. Our little canyon would get mud slides that took out entire sections of our road. It could be a couple of weeks before the county came up to make repairs. 

Everyone who lived up in the woods had a piece of equipment. The neighbor down the road had a tractor, my dad had a dump truck, etc. They would go out themselves and dig out people's homes and clear the roads. I didn't realize it then, but as an adult I realize, they must have had a blast. I can think of my husband if it were him up there, just how much fun he would be having. He gets excited when I get him a small power tool, imagine a dump truck. 

To this day, I love heavy rainfall. I became accustom to the seclusion of where I was raised. Heavy rain meant the terrain would change and give a whole new experience on my next walk in the woods. I remember where  a dry creek bed was and how it would would become a stream if enough rain fell. Rain was such a peaceful time. 

Where we live now, the rain is short lived. For most of the year, it is fairly dry. This week Idaho was dumped on by record breaking snowfall. Where we may have only received a few inches (or none at all since it is still November) we received 10 inches in a single day. (And everyone says we have global warming, are we sure it isn't an ice age coming, because it feels that way) Considering the conditions, I decided to stay home with my son and stay in for a snow day. He had his first hot chocolate. I am pretty sure the word "cocoa" is the fastest word he has picked up so far. All day, "more cocoa" 

I realize from my own childhood that memories are definitely made. I think that explains why I lack a lot of memory from when I was younger. I wasn't interacted with much by my stay-at-home mother. Inside or out, I spent it mostly alone. If I was inside I had to be in my room, I only remember being out of my room when my father came home. I wonder what my son will remember when he is older. Will it be the hot cocoa? I know, I know he is 18 months old, but what if we started a tradition that the first day of snow always meant cocoa. I think that it is tradition that embeds the memory. So I decided immediately, when I saw the delight on his face with his first cup that I must make the tradition that the first snowfall will always have a cup a cocoa to go with it. To ensure he remembers. 

This weekend, I will turn his little red sled into a one-dog-open slay . A harness for our dog and a leash to the sled should make for a great time in the snow. Especially, since this weekend we are getting dumped on again by another storm and we will not be going anywhere.