I love the snow. When I was little, I can remember bundling up to go outside and play for hours. We had our old wooden sled and we would take turns going down the big hill behind the house. Sometimes we would double up. It was a blast. It felt like it took hours to get ready to go out. We would wear a pair of pajamas under our pants and 2 or 3 pairs of knee socks. We would have on our pajama top, a couple of shirts, a heavy sweatshirt and then our coat. There were always scarves and toboggans to with our ensemble. We would wear two pairs of gloves and then mom would put a pair of dad's socks over our gloves for extra dryness. As we build snowmen and forts and had snowball fights, the ice crystal would form on the socks. We would run around to the other side of the house where the old gas stove pipe came out of the living room. We would wrap our hands around it and let the warmth melt the snow off our sock "gloves" so our real gloves below would stay dry. Then we'd run back to the yard and play some more. When we would go in, we'd have to stand in the kitchen door and remove all those layers before we could go to our rooms for dry clothes. There was almost always something good waiting for us. Homemade chocolate pudding, homemade donuts rolled in cinnamon and sugar, or simply a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallow. I know and respect the dangers the snow can cause - the road problems, the school closings, burst pipes, downed power lines. But I still can't help but feel that little tug of excitement as I see the splendor of a yard covered in pristine white where no tracks have been made or the strong oaks with their limbs laden with snow. Now I am content to sit indoors and watch the beauty and enjoy the memories while I stay nice and warm.