This Ain’t Funny, Dad!

I’ve noticed some of my FaceBook friends who live in colder climates have been complaining about the weather lately. It’s hot as the dickens here in College Station, Texas–supposed to hit 101 today–and that’s just how I like it. Although, I have been hinting to Sherry that our next move should probably be to a first-floor apartment with a sliding glass back door that opens onto the pool area. Just sayin… But this story is about one of those late spring snowfalls some of you have mentioned lately.

It was during the time I worked as a high-lead logger in the foothills of Mt. Rainier, and lived in Ashford, Washington; a little burg consisting of a general store, a tavern, a gas station and a couple of restaurants. As you might expect, my memory of the details about the little town are sketchy.

We lived in a rental house—same one where I changed the VW engine, to the chorus I described in a previous blog story called, Wows and Holy Cows. The house had a nice, covered front porch and several large pine trees adorned the front yard.

The Saturday night before Easter, the boys’ mom and I had stayed up late—probably attending the Easter Eve services at the tavern—and when I woke up around eight Sunday morning, I jumped up and rushed to see if Billy(he was ten), and Wesley(eight), were awake yet; they were sleeping in. Quietly, I slipped into the kitchen and got the two dozen eggs we’d colored the day before from the refrigerator.

The weather that morning was typically overcast, but it was—for Ashford—comfortable outside. I had on jeans, and a long sleeve shirt. I rushed around the yard, hiding the eggs; not hiding them in difficult places, mind you; basically just laying them in tall grass, under bushes and behind tree trunks. When my bunny duties were completed, I went into the house and crawled back into bed for a few more winks. As I slept, a cold front moved in.

The boys woke me about an hour later, standing beside the bed, staring at me. If you’ve never opened your eyes to the scene of two little boys intently studying you, you missed out on one of life’s startling, but precious moments.

So we all got busy, fixed something quick for breakfast—probably Sugar Pops, as we were quite the health nuts back then—then the boys got dressed and grabbed their baskets. I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. My mouth fell open.

The yard was covered by about two inches of snow.

When I turned around to see what the boys were doing, they were standing side-by-side, just inside the house; their mom was right behind them, with a hand on each boys’ shoulder. The boys said nothing, but stared up at me angrily, like it was totally my fault.

I kid you not, I if could put words to the identical looks those two were giving me, they would be,
“This ain’t funny, Dad! How could you do this to us?”

So, yes, I have no problem believing it snowed a few days ago in the higher elevations around Tacoma and Seattle.

It was ninety to ninety-five every day this week here in College Station, Texas. I doubt we will be seeing any late spring snow.

1 Comment »

  1. Sherry said

    I wouldn’t mind a little snow

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