Yesterday morning, I watched the news scroll across my screen and realized I was facing a snow emergency so severe it made me slightly late for work.
The forecast for today, a high of 59 with showers, followed by 13 straight days of no precipitation, meant I needed to move quickly if I wanted to avoid a seasonal disaster.
I headed straight for the sled hill.
Dressed for work with my hair still damp, I stood there with my lime green saucer and surveyed my terrain. A raven eyed me suspiciously as I plopped down and prepared to make my run. He chewed on an old sandwich and then squawked loudly as he flew away. Quoth the Laura, “Nevermind!”
Listen, I have celebrated the season’s first real snowfall with an exhuberant run down the neighborhood sled hill every year since it sprang from the foam of some Park and Rec Director’s imagination . I love to sled ride. I especially love the first ride of the year and I was not going to miss this year’s inaugural run just because some weird windy weather front was bearing down.
And I definitely shrugged off the raven disdain. “You think I’m going to be disuaded by a cackling vulture-wanna-be who just scarfed down some kid’s three-day old discarded lunch? Ha!”
I took off “Wheeeee!”, flew off a small hidden jump some little hooligans fashioned and landed hard on the ice. It was glorious. I snuck in another run and then headed off to work, which would have been enough for me until the next snow fall came to Appleton.
But, when I arrived home after work, two of my favorite people wanted to join me on a second trip to the hill. So, Vinnie, Danni and I — three full grown adults — went back over for an afternoon treat.
At some point, I will be too old for shenanigans like this.
But, I’m not there yet.