As I write these words, the first snowflake has yet to fall, though the icy chill in the air seems to lend veracity to the weatherman's prediction of snow. Snow in Tennessee means white roads and icy hills, neither being conducive to good driving. Driving on snow covered roads is something
I thoroughly hate. Winding up in a ditch miles away from home isn't the adventure it once was. I
can barely handle long hikes in warm weather, let alone when I'm freezing. Numb toes do not a happy Wiley make.
Often, when I say my prayers on winter nights, I implore God to spare my area a big snow, in
Jesus' name, to offset the prayers of demented, snow loving Yankees. If you like snow so much, move to Canada and enjoy frozen feet. Leave my neighborhood snow free. I'm pleased to say, God has
spared us mightily this winter and for that I publicly thank Him. Thank you, merciful God, Almighty!
Knowing our overworked farmers need rain and snow to offset drought, my prayers often
include the proviso, "But if it must snow, please let it happen over the weekend so folks don't
have to drive in it." God knows when I say folks in this instance, I really mean me. Refer back to
paragraph one. I really hate driving in snow. Now being stuck at home for a snow day is something
Snow days, in my younger days, meant consuming pots of hot chocolate, sledding down snow covered hills on an old car hood and huddling under covers and reading good books. Hot chocolate
is the mandatory beverage of snow days. You need the heat to recover from the cold and the calories
for energy to keep pulling the car hood back up the hills. Those old 1950's cars were made out of good
American steel and that hood was heavy. Still, you could pile on four or five kids if the snow was deep
enough and fly like a rocket through still standing blackberry briars or tobacco stobs, depending on which field we choose. A tobacco stob, for those who don't know, is what's left of the tobacco
plant when you cut off the stalk. The stob dries out, has a sharp point, and can spear your bare foot
like a punji stick if you carelessly step on it while running away from irate cousins or imaginary
Indians. Sledding with friends was great. When friends brought girls sledding was better. A guy
could steal a kiss before slamming into a tree and have a pretty good chance of getting away with
Nowadays, snow days are a bit different for me. Sledding days are done. It's my job to check the well to be sure it doesn't freeze up. Knocking wet snow from power lines and carefully trimming back tree limbs getting too near the wires falls upon me as well. I still get hot chocolate though. I don't get the marshmallows as often, nor as many as the old days. Huddling under the covers rarely finds me with a book any more. My current chocolate maker, Pamela, keeps me too busy to read. Besides, snow days are meant to be magic. Nothing on earth is more magical than a man being with the woman he loves.
So my friends and Lorefans, if you are so fortunate as to find yourself stranded at home, take a
bit of advice from your old pal Wiley. Don't do the taxes. Don't clean the house. Make some magic.
Make some memories. Don't forget the hot chocolate!