I talked to my granddaughter, Skyler, today who now lives in sunny California. She longs for a white Christmas like they once had in the mountains of Virginia. She will soon be sixteen.
When I was 8 years old, we were surprised to wake up one morning to eight inches of snow, a rare treat in Georgia! It had been an unusually cold winter and Grandpa said, "If snow stays on the ground for three days, it will snow again, and it did!"
"If it stays on the ground three days,"
Grandpa said, "It will snow some more,"
The next morning we saw snowflakes falling
Through frosted panes in the front door.
In the afternoon sun, it melted to slush,
But froze that night with an icy crust.
Icicles dangled from the traffic light,
As we dashed across the street for a snowball fight.
We Georgia kids had no flexible flyer,
So we rounded up whatever we could acquire.
We borrowed the lid from a metal trash can
And pushed the little one in an old dishpan.
With our fingers numb we charged through the door
Tracking up Mama's just-mopped floor.
Her cups of cocoa warmed our insides
And we rushed out the door for one more sled ride.