When I was young, Mum and Dad would pack us kids up in the car for a day trip to the snow each year.
The trip would start at 4.30am and the effort was all with Mum and Dad, we sleepily dragged ourselves into the backseat of the station wagon to continue sleeping until some hours later where we would wake to find ourselves parked outside an Anzac Memorial in a garden in the middle of a small country town halfway between our home and the snow fields.
You know the gardens, every small town has one in the middle of the main street, and it’s always got an Anzac Memorial in the middle surrounded by rose bushes. And public toilets. It was time to wake up. This was our breakfast stop. And time to start layering ourselves in jumpers and scarves and beanies and gloves and parkas.
It was always a thrill to be on the look out for the first signs of snow. Mum always saw it first, glowing white on the mountains in the distance. As we got closer we were so excited by the sludgy brown mucky bits of snow on the sides of the road. We so weren’t snow people!
We had our feet in plastic bags inside our gum boots. We made snow balls. We gasped for breath and thought we were on the top of the world. We played in the snow, sliding down hillsides on garbage bags as make-do toboggans. One of us was destined to always ricochet into a nearby creek. Our gum boots always filled up with snow. We would have a picnic lunch in one of those pine log cabins built for bushwalkers. It would have an open fire and the wettest of socks would be placed nearby to dry. They usually didn’t. But by this time we’d had tomato soup from a flask and lots of sandwiches and were ready for more snow.
Tingling from the cold and in our dry clothes. Yes, it was 1977 and you are looking at genuine flares!
Dad would drive us away from the snow fields and into the Kosciusko National Park, to find some fresh snow away from the crowds. We would look for animal footprints in the snow, and build snowmen. Then it was time to change in the back seat of the car into a set of dry clothes. We would be rubbed down with towels until our skin tingled and after one last photo in front of our snowmen we would pile back into the car for the journey home.
I’m not much of a snow girl. I hate the cold! But my childhood memories of the snow are so sweet and I just love Mum and Dad for making it happen.
This is a long weekend holiday in Melbourne. Along with it being the Queen’s Birthday holiday, I think it’s also the official start to the snow season. It certainly feels like it should be the start of the snow season – I’m so cold today!
I won’t be planning any snowy day trips, instead I will be launching into a Long Weekend Crochet-a-thon. And having lots of tea. I’ve already spent this morning on a trial run!
I hope you are doing something to embrace the season, even if you’re like me and don’t care much for the cold. It is fun to snuggle up under snuggly gear and it certainly looks good from inside a cosy cafe!