Let it blow, let it snow

As a kid the biggest snowstorm I ever saw occurred inside a paperweight.

That was, until the winter of 1968-69. In late January, an almost continuous snowfall from a Friday through a Monday left my rural valley near Eugene buried in snow almost to the tops of the fenceposts. Many historic barns collapsed under the weight of the heavy, wet snow. Adults and kids shoveled frantically to save other barns — and houses too.

Our dog, a Norwegian Elkhorn, thought he had died and gone to Oslo. Ole dug himself a snow cave and was in Happy Land.

Now 40 years later I live in snow country. Even so, I’m dreaming of a green Christmas. Just like the ones I used to know, most years, growing up.

My dad always said the snow belongs in the mountains. He was a former Army drill sergeant, and snow was about the only thing that wouldn’t snap to when he gave a command.

Reality, though, tells me we will get snow this year, and plenty of it. The Grande Ronde Valley may be one of the biggest valleys in the world totally surrounded by mountains. While the Grande Ronde River sneaks out, downhill it is presumed, drivers must conquer this or that mountain pass to escape.

In fact, all of Wallowa and Union counties, are in the mountains. It’s not whether we’re going to get snow. It’s just a matter of how much — and will it all fall at once, and make a big whomping sound.

Dad, who also did a rural mail route, found snow as welcome as an intestinal parasite. Snow meant putting chains on the car. Slipping and sliding around the route. A big headache.

A couple ski bum friends of mine, however, go nuts over even a forecast of snow. They’re ready for the deep powder and to hit the slopes howling. The deeper the snow, the better.

The truth is, it doesn’t do much good to curse the weather, or the wind, no matter how many ample portions of misery they deal out.

Wind and snow do not have to be negatives.

A helpful greeter I met the other day at Wal-Mart loves the wind, absolutely loves it. She lives in a part of Island City where the wind, howling like a love-sick coyote, invariably blows away all the leaves and the snow.

Going into the winter, with a lot of driving over the Blue Mountains ahead, I am not praying for snow. Or wind. But if it happens, I plan to enjoy the beauty, feel the energy.

The point is, wishes won’t catch fishes. You can’t change the weather so you might as well learn to dance in the wind and the snow.

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