I had written this story for a snow day, but it doesn't look like we are going to get any beautiful white snow this year, but I'm posting anyway.
It is said that most people recall their first memory around the age of three. So thinking back I do recall around the age of three my very first snow. Now at the time I didn't know it was snow but as you get older you look back and say, "Ah, ha!"
When I was around three, Jason and I had gotten up on bitter cold morning. Most mornings we slept in, which I think was a relief for my mother.
I really don't remember what we ate that morning, if we ate anything, but I do remember watching a little television. There really wasn't much on in the morning. I'm pretty sure we watched PBS but couldn't be for sure. In the afternoon was a whole different story. Gilligan's
Anyway, back to what I was talking about. It was a bitter cold morning and we watched a little television. I remember getting dressed and Jason, who was two at the time, was having trouble getting dressed. As a big sister (only by 15 months) I helped him with the buttons on his shirt, but the truth is; I wasn't much good at it either.
My mother made sure we were dressed properly for the day and I remember telling her we wanted to go out and play. My poor mother tried to keep us in most of the morning, but wasn't having much luck and finally gave in to us kids.
Jason and I went outside to play in our yard that, by the way was unfenced. This is the early 70's and children missing; was a rarity. Not saying it didn't happen, it was just a rarity. Plus we had the neighbors around to watch us. Most of them were old and knew when we were out and sort of watched us as they say.
My mother bundled us up and sent us out, while she did things around the house. Jason and I loved going to this big Mulberry tree in the backyard. That was one of our favorite places to go. No grass grew under it, so we played in the sand with our toys. I must say toys for us, was a premium. Jason had his trucks and cars, but I had butter dishes and old worn out spoons. We could play for hours in the dirt with these few tools of pleasure, as they say.
By lunch time our grandma and grandpa Montague had came by the house with some dumplings for lunch. We normally went with them at lunch time, a treat for us kids, but today grandma had too much to do. So instead she brought us lunch and sat and ate with us talking with mama. Grandpa had already stuffed his face and was bundled up outside talking with the neighbors. I told you we had a lot of old people in the neighborhood.
I can recall hearing grandma getting onto mama for letting us kids play out in this cold and mama replying 'well you try to keep them in.' Soon grandma would be gone and Jason and I would be back out playing in the backyard under the big Mulberry tree.
We got bored and played with the family dog, Bandit. He was a Benji dog but at the time he was considered more of a mutt. He had a brother Nelson, who lived down the street with our grandma Swinney. Bandit was loads of fun and he was very protective of us kids but he also liked to run off and visit the neighborhood. Poor Bandit would be snatched up by today's standards, no leash, no collar, no shots, just a dog that slept on the front porch each day and night.
We played on the front porch for a while until something caught our attention. This little feather fell between me and Jason. Now you can imagine what we thought, where did it come from?
Another one fell to the ground we quickly went over to see it. This time it was bigger and so very dainty as we bent down to see it closer. Jason tried to pick it up but it disappeared before we could touch it.
I told Jason, I thought Mrs. Bernae, our neighbor's, chickens must be molting again. (A term you learn very early in life with chickens. For those of you who don't know, chickens lose their feathers to make room for summer feathers) However this was strange that those feathers were disappearing in front of our very own eyes. Soon, those feathers were flying around and falling to the ground and for some reason they weren't going away anymore.
We sat on the porch and watched it for a while until Jason thought it was time to go in and I had to agree. I wasn't sure what was happening but I knew it wasn't too bad but not good either.
My mother was unaware of this fact. She had been doing household chores and didn't pay one bit attention to what was going on outside.
We told her we were hungry and of course she had the television on to our favorite shows. Of course all mothers have to ask their young ones what have you been doing? Our answer was nothing, but I did tell her somebody was throwing feathers all over the place out there.
I think my mother thought I had a wild imagination then. She didn't believe me when I told her somebody is pitching feathers all over the lawn. Of course I went on about it until she finally went to the door to see what I was babbling on about.
Jason and I went over to the big window to look out while my mother stood at the door looking out.
Since the time we had went into the house, those feathers had really taken over the lawn. I was shocked at how much Mrs. Bernae's chickens were losing their feathers and wondered how they were going to stay warm for the winter.
"See, I told you somebody is pitching feathers," I told my mom, who was laughing at us. I didn't find it funny, I was really worried. If these feathers did come from those chickens they were going to be dead soon.
Those small feathers had turned into a full force storm of feathers, whirling around covering the lawn with a fresh blanket of white.
Poor Bandit sat on the porch staring as if this was nothing new. I thought Bandit should come in but my mother protested that and told me he is a dog he will live, he had enough fur on him.
My mother finally explained to me and Jason what was going on. She told us it was snowing and when the weather got just right, that's when it snows. It wasn't Mrs. Bernae's chickens losing their feathers nor was Bandit, who I kept trying to let into the house, would be swallowed up by the snow.
She tried her best to explain what snow was and I think any child at that age fears it to a point, yet wants to know more. My fears were calmed and I think Jason's was too, but Jason had something to say about this whole thing.
"Well, I don't care what it is, but if daddy thinks, I'm going out there to clean that up, he's got another thing coming!"
Books by Carla Landreth
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