I know that everyone in North America is looking forward to spring – it’s not too distant in the future. But this web-footed Southerner loves winter. It’s my favorite season because I love the “hush” that goes hand in hand with the cold. I love everything about winter, and you can’t just say, “Well, that’s because you live in the South where the weather is more temperate.” I love cold weather even in the Rocky Mountains where I experienced -30 degrees one year. That was cold, I’ll admit it. Still loved it. This post is for all you winter-hangers-on.

Last year year instead of going skiing, Mama suggested we go snowshoeing. Skiing no longer interested her – she thinks she’s getting old, but she’s not. However, if I were going to spend the day outdoors with her, it would have to be on her terms. So, I relented and gave up lightning for molasses. I’m glad I did because now I love the sport almost as much as skiing. Almost.

We came to a snow-covered field, and I said, “Mama, I want to reach that tree, over there.”

She asked, “That tree, right there?” clearly dreaming.

“No, Mama. That tree – way over there, on the other side of the field.”

“I don’t know, Stace. That’s kind of far. I don’t know if I can make it.”

“Enough with the ‘too old’ bit, Mama. We’ll take it one tree at a time. Follow me.”

We took it one tree at a time, resting every now and then to admire the beauty that surrounded us.

And in time, me made it to that tree on the other side of the field of snow.

I knew she could do it, in spite of her thinking she’s old. My mama – the strongest woman I know.

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