We have been blessed with a mild autumn here in Minnesota, but that has come to an abrupt end. Our first snowfall for the season is not a light dusting of snowflakes; it is a full- blown blizzard. There was no working up to it over a period of weeks. Just a few days ago it was 67 degrees and sunny and now we have a foot of snow, 20 mph winds swirling more snow around, and little visibility. Winter is here, folks!
There is always something so magical and exciting about the first snowfall so I was determined to get out and enjoy it. However, taking my two large dogs and four- year- old son out for a walk felt like an arctic expedition (granted, we were out in an actual blizzard). First, the preparation to take a step outside took close to an eternity. I had to put on an extra pair of socks for Roland, take off his pants and finagle him into his snow bib, shove on his enormous snow boots, and finally put on his jacket, hat and gloves. I believe there was more winter gear than child. Then I quickly threw on my own clothes and leashed up the dogs who had been pacing around and whining the entire time. At this point my energy and patience was zapped, but I did not do all that work for nothing so I opened the door and we stepped out into the snow storm. Roland was uncertain about walking through the foot- high snow on our deck and getting down the steps was treacherous, but we eventually made it into our own back yard.
After a bit, we got a rhythm down and Roland actually started to enjoy himself. We passed through the front yard, which was my original destination, but Roland said he was up for walking farther so we continued on. We walked through the one set of tire tracks down our quiet street so the going was easier. After we walked a while, I noticed the wind picking up and the visibility decreasing so I decided it was a good time to head back home. When I turned around, I realized the wind had been at our backs going out and now it was blowing stinging snow and ice in our faces. My spirits plummeted. Roland was doing surprisingly well before, but how was I ever going to get him home in this? He is not especially tough in inclement conditions. The weather had never been great, but now it was deteriorating quickly. Our gloves were wet and we could barely keep our eyes open because of the blowing snow. I yelled at Roland to walk right behind me so I could block the wind for him. Every few seconds I turned to make sure he was still following, but he wasn’t keeping up. He was trying to walk with his eyes closed, his entire face was covered in snot, and he looked overall pitiful. What was I doing taking my four- year- old son out in this weather? We were close to our house, but I felt like we were journeying through an arctic wasteland. We needed to get home quickly so I gripped both dog leashes with one hand (I had to control 200 lbs. of frisky dogs with one arm) and grabbed Roland’s hand with the other and trudged on. In a few minutes were we safe at home.
Just as we finished stripping our dripping wet clothes off, Roland asked to go outside again. I gave him my “You have got to be kidding me!” look.
We settled on some hot chocolate and watched the snow swirl around from our nice, warm home.