Childhood Winters of Yore
Back in my childhood days, winter was not the formidable season that it is today. Our playground was the great outdoors and between my grandparents’ house and our house, we had an enormous yard in which to entertain ourselves.
Skating was a fun-filled activity, although we never became very proficient. At school, we often walked to the arena, where we would skate in circles, forward and, daringly, backward. Mom usually came with the class as she helped to tie the skates so that our ankles did not wobble. At home, we had no ice rink, but behind my grandparents’ house was a decent-sized swamp. We laced our skates on the front step and then walked through deep snow to the swamp, where we skated to our hearts’ content. The only problem with a swamp is that we often had to hop over clumps of grass and logs that were embedded in the ice!
The two properties had fairly steep hills for tobogganing as well. There always seemed to be a great deal of snow every winter, so we built jumps at the bottom. We would go sailing down the hill, standing, sitting or even backward. Then we would hit the bumps and usually go flying, although sometimes we landed on the ribs of the toboggan, and that hurt! Dad was very protective of his many trees in the yard, and one winter there was a tree that was in the direct path of our toboggans, so we decided to surreptitiously cut the oending
Taking a snowy stroll down memory lane
tree down. We snuck into the basement to “borrow” a saw, and hack away at the tree until— Timber! The tree was actually only a couple of inches in diameter. We held our breath the rest of the winter, but Dad never did notice, although in the spring, one tree stump was about a foot high, the height of the snow at the time.
Dare Devils
Toboggans were not the only things we chose to slide on. We had sleighs with runners but they did not work as well. A favourite was a cardboard box, which, if treated roughly, fell apart easily, so we’d end up sliding the rest of the way down the hill on our stomachs or backs. We also had a flying saucer, which was a metal disc with handles that spun in circles on the way down, making us quite dizzy! When we felt a little crazy, instead of sliding down the snowy hill, we used my grandmother’s front steps. They stretched from her front porch to the street and were made of concrete. That run was not for the weak of heart!
In a winter with lots of snow, we built long tunnels, a very time-consuming job, and a tad scary. I can still remember wondering what would happen if the tunnel caved in while I was burrowing through one. Often, we could not see the other end. I doubt that my sister, Kathleen (Smokey), or my cousin Louise (Wezie), would have been strong enough to pull or dig me out! We were also really into horses in those days, so instead of the traditional snowman, we formed snow horses. The body was easy enough, but the dicult part was the neck and head, as the neck never seemed to be strong enough to hold the head on, and it would keep falling o. We persevered, however, and managed to create three strange-looking creatures that we called horses. We borrowed old mats and used them for saddles and hey, ho, away we would go!
There were the inevitable snow angels that would cover the yard after a snowfall. If the snow was sticky and easy to pack, we had snowball fights, although they could get heated. So, we built snow forts for defence.
Homemade Fashion
Our snow apparel left much to be desired. There was no such thing as “Thinsulate” or any of the modern materials. Our coats and pants were made from melton cloth, a type of wool to which the snow clung like Velcro! Smokey and I wore snowsuits that Dad made. He cut our coats from the material of one of Mom’s old Hudson Bay coats—he didn’t even need to use a pattern! Mom knit all of our hats, mittens and scarves. Our winter boots were really galoshes, which we wore over our shoes. When we finally got too wet, cold or tired, we headed for home. By the door was a corn broom that we used to brush the snow o of each other. Mom did not appreciate snowy children in her kitchen.
So much of our fun was homemade. We had few of the advantages that children have today and certainly none of their toys. We made do, as the saying goes, with whatever was available, and let our imaginations do the rest. n
Emma was a sweet, but very precocious, three year old. She knew exactly what she liked and was able to verbalize her wishes. In the spring of 2018, she was holding her mom’s hand when she started looking at her mom’s rings.
“I would like some rings like that,” she told her mom. “Where did you buy them? I want you to buy some like that for me!”
Her mom smiled and said, “Oh, sweetie, these are special rings. Daddy gave them to me.”
That seemed to satisfy Emma, but she didn’t forget. When her dad came home she informed him that she wanted him to give her some pretty rings like he had given Mom.
Picking her up and setting her on his knee, her daddy said,
“Emma, I bought those for Mommy when we got married. You have to wait until you are grown up, then some young man will love you and he will give you pretty rings when you get married.”
Emma looked disappointed, but all she said was, “Oh,” and went to play with her dolls. There was no more mention of rings.
Later in the summer, the family went to Creston to celebrate Great-grandpa’s 90th birthday. Emma was all dressed up for the celebration. She had a big red bow in her long, dark hair, and she was wearing a lovely sun dress with a pouy hem. On her feet she wore silver shoes. When she walked into the celebration room, she stole the show. A friend of Great-grandpa’s
was really smitten with her and said to her in a playful tone of voice:
“Emma, you are so beautiful. I think I want to marry you. We could have a wedding right now. Your mom and dad are here, the priest is here and all your aunts and uncles. What do you think, Emma, should we get married?”
Emma stood looking at him with her big brown eyes and then said loudly and clearly, “Where’s my ring?”