Ok, I’ll admit it. I’d become a bit smug about our weather here in the panhandle. I, too, had heard the old saw about “the luckiest little fishing village in the world.” We’d avoided numerous hurricanes, tropical storms, and dangerous winds. So when the dire snowfall predictions blared on the TV, I thought “Riiiiiiight. I know those weathercasters are always making dramatic predictions to punch up the ratings. I mean, who are they kidding? Snow in Florida? Ridiculous!”

As the sky began to resemble an eclipse of the sun, flakes of white landed on the ground. Hmmm, since it couldn’t be grains of our lovely white sand here in the area, maybe it’s God’s dandruff. Snow in Florda? There must be some misunderstanding, Mother Nature.
At first I thought it kind of cute/unique and was out taking pictures to capture the scene before the flakes melted. I needn’t have worried. The snowfall continued into the night, growing heavier by the minute as several inches accumulated on the ground. Meanwhile our TV showed scenes from New Orleans and Houston. I saw a little boy building a snowman in the middle of Bourbon Street and kids sledding happily down some random hill in Houston.
I grew nostalgic about the days when snow was FUN. We’d squeeze into those snowsuits from last year, now a tight fit, jam our feet into the circulation-stopping boots and be out the door. Sometimes we’d build a snowman, or better yet a snow fort, and engage in snowball-to-snowball combat with the kids across the street. Other times we’d sled down the nearest hill, taking turns with the sled we shared.
I didn’t last long in the cold even then, so was back inside, ready to discard my boots, mittens and snowsuit on the newspapers spread out at the front door. Now came the best part—hot cocoa whipped up by Mom, with as many marshmallows as the cup would hold. Afterward, I’d wipe the chocolate mustache off with the back of my hand and be ready to settle down with a good book.

Back in real time, the next morning I ventured from the house only long enough to take a few photos of the record-breaking event and close the door quickly to stay warm. Somehow, although it can be beautiful, snowfall is not the fun it once was.
As one Facebook wag put it, “We thought our beaches couldn’t get any whiter, but we were wrong.”
Carol....your stories always bring back our Vincennes childhood memories. Thank you!