Snapshots of a Modest Life

Sledding

I grew up on a farm in Virginia; at least that's what I tell people. My earliest memories were created on that farm, many of them fond, some not. The one that seems to come back to me the most is as follows.

One winter a big storm came through the valley, dumping inches of white fluffy snow on the ground. It was perfect for sledding. My brothers and I made the short hike out to our favorite sledding hill, which doubled as the front hay field when not covered in snow, dragging sleds behind us. We had borrowed our friend's toboggan sled, a long molded sheet of hard plastic on which three children could slide down the hill at incredibly fast speeds, or so it seemed to our young minds. Upon conquering the sledding hill, my brothers and I would pile onto the sled, Keith in the front, then me, then Paul bringing up the rear. The first few runs would take a minute to get started; the snow was still soft and the sled would stick. Paul would place his hands on my back and run and push us like an Olympic bobsled team going for the gold medal, jumping on just as the sled began to speed down the hill. Sometimes we would successfully make it all the way down the hill, coming to a stop slowly at the bottom. More frequently one of us would lean to one side throwing the sled off balance and thrusting us head first into the snow, sending us rolling and laughing all the way down the hill. We sledded for most of the afternoon, our cheeks and foreheads becoming rosy as the sun glinted off the tiny snow crystals, slowly baking our faces. The sun sank low on the horizon and our tummies told us it was time to go home. We walked home, pulling the sleds behind us, smiling and laughing, knowing that Mom would have grilled cheese and soup for us when we got back.

That evening the farmer who rented the land let the cows into the front hayfield. If you've ever been around cows, you know that they don't plan where they relieve themselves. In this case they relieved themselves on our nicely packed sledding hill. That evening it froze again. The snow which had partially melted during the day turned to ice, and on top of the snow was an ever so thin layer of ice. Also at the top of the snow on our sledding hill were frozen cow pies, dotting the hill like landmines ready to destroy a perfect trek down the hill. Soon after lunch we found those pies, and saw them as a challenge. We were determined that the cow pies would have no effect on our sledding for the day. WE WOULD NOT LET IT STOP US!!

more to come...