Yesterday, my brother and I built burrows in the walls of plowed snow in our driveway. We both like playing Rabbits but have to take turns about with Snowball Wars and Fairy Cave. I don't like Snowball Wars; snowballs burn when they hit, and someone ends up crying every time. Usually my brother. I moreso like looking for fairies (which my brother thinks is stupid) at the opening to the underground stream, where icicles hang. I just love icicles; don't you? Our biggest ones hang off the roof of our red barn. In the mouth, they're like pointy popsicles with no taste.
Maybe it will take awhile for the snow to melt, this time. I feel bad for the snowmen when their heads shrink to the size of eggs and their rock eyes fall out. And I think winter is the very best season: better than all the other seasons put together, really, even if you're not counting Christmas, which of course is the very, very best holiday...
|The Yard of Our Farm in Pennsylvania|
|A Snowman Friend and Me. These pictures precede most of my memories of self but capture, perfectly, my memories of Pennsylvania winter landscape.|