Snowbound

 A winter wonderland, that’s how I felt about it.  A move to McCall Idaho in December of 1950, when I was eight years old landed me right in the middle of this snowy paradise.  Snow falling daily, wind-blowing, roads drifted closed so that a team and bob sleigh was, at times, our only transportation.  It was like a dream, and made me think of all the songs about winter and sleigh rides.  Our team of horses Bert and Dick were gentle and hard working.  With just a flick of the reins they turned left or right, walked slow or changed to a trot, they did exactly what my Daddy wanted, without him ever saying a word.  Morning and night the sleigh was loaded with hay to feed the cattle, with me holding the reins, while hay was thrown onto fresh, sparkling snow.  The cattle, steam rising from their warm bodies came running and bawling after us to get the first bite of hay.  Back at the barn the horses had to be unharnessed, brushed and fed.  I soon learned that I could help by walking under the horses’ belly unsnapping and loosening the harness so we could get our chores finished and into our warm house for the breakfast or supper that Mom always had ready.

More beautiful than ever was our Christmas tree that year.  Could it have been, because Daddy hitched up the team and with everyone bundled up against the cold wind, our breath visible in the air we found, cut and hauled the tree home?  Then Mom used her special magic, with a few treasured ornaments, strings of lights and icicles carefully placed to make it the tree, that every year we tried to duplicate.  Christmas Eve a few packages were under the tree and our stockings were hung.  We didn’t have fancy matching stockings for everyone; instead Mom would get stockings from Dad’s dresser, one for each of us.  We used his because they were the largest, and would hold more candy and nuts.  

We lived on a county road with our nearest neighbors a mile away; the Lake Fork grocery store and post office three miles away, and our one room school house two miles down the road.  County road equipment was nearly nonexistent, and what was available couldn’t begin to keep up with the snowstorms that came in one after the other.  If the county crew was lucky, and got the roads plowed you could bet that within a few days another storm would move in and they would soon be impassable again.  This happened over and over every winter.  Sometimes after the roads were plowed, leaving a layer of ice and snow on them, Daddy would let us hooky bob behind the bob sleigh on our sleds to a nearby hill.  At the top of the hill the sleds were unhooked and down the hill we would go, then Daddy would come down, and pull us up again.

I remember being snowed in for two weeks, unable to go to school.  Shoveling snow was a daily chore.  Usually, in between storms the temperature would drop below zero, then it was a  struggle keeping the water pipes from freezing, and making sure the cattle had enough to eat, and keeping a hole chopped in the ice so they could get water.  Even when the roads were plowed trips to the store to get groceries or the mail were far and few between.  My parents had planned well and worked hard so we had warm clothing, plenty of food to eat, and enough wood to last all winter. 

I don’t know why my parents decided to move and especially in the dead of the winter, unless it was so they would be ready to plant crops in the spring.  I’m happy they did because it made my childhood, a dream come true.