The first winter storm

Depending on exactly where you live, the Detroit area got 4-6 inches of snow yesterday. On the one hand, this is the latest I can recall (and I can recall about 48 of my 58 years) we've went before getting a significant snowfall. On the other hand, it's still snow, with all the problems that go along with it.

The older I get the less use I have for winter. It's just cold and slippery, and dirty once the pristine whiteness of newly fallen snow becomes mixed in with the grime of city streets and sidewalks. The irony, if irony is the right term, is that I'm really no fan of summer either. It's too hot and uncomfortable even with baseball and golf as saviors. I like May and September: warm enough that you can wear shorts and tees during the day, and maybe need one blanket at night.

I keep telling myself that I should be thankful that winter has been mild here, especially considering how badly beaten up the east coast and our neighbors south of here have had it. I remind myself hourly (okay, every few minutes) that we're actually only six weeks away from being past the worst of winter storms and temperatures. Yet when I look outside this morning and see winter's grip, to open my laptop to read the weather report for the next ten days (cold, too cold), such encouragement doesn't help.

Especially as I have to go outside and scrape off the cars in an hour.

The Mighty Cosgriff Snowplow

I've said before, and recently, that I have come to the realization that I don't like snow. But at one time snow and I had a truce, and playing in the snow could even be fun. Yes, as a young kid. But as an older kid too.

Once back while I was in high school we had a pretty good snowfall, a foot or better as I recall. We got a few days off school yet that didn't mean a few days off work. Me Pops and me Grandpa Joe had me go up to the Shop, to be useful as they saw it with my new free time.

It wasn't entirely a drag though. Joe sent me to the hardware for something or another, and on the return I encountered Canfield Avenue. It was about three blocks long where I encountered it, and covered with all that fresh snow. Nary a vehicle had trespassed upon it afore I that morn. There weren't even no parked cars. This was going to be fun, I remember thinking. And I meant fun.

I started onto Canfield in that big old red GMC Suburban of me Pops and I let into the flat white blanket. For the first block I simply made two deep tire tracks. For the second and third I played around with the steering wheel, swerving the Suburban to and fro, letting loose cascades of powder in all directions, creating my own cloud as I plowed along the street. Then I turned around and did it again.

When I was through I actually stopped and got out of the old car to survey my artwork. There were moguls and ruts and graying, churned up snow all along the path of my carnage. I must say I was impressed with the damage I had inflicted on the once quiet avenue.

So, yeah, I still hate it. But snow can be fun.