A creek ran below the house. It was up
a canyon, and the road was winding. It
was lined with aspen and willow. Steps
crossed a small bridge to the place where
we swam in the summer and hauled water
when pipes froze in the winter.
The first time we ever saw snow was
exciting, especially being from the city.
There was a rather steep hill and we had a
difficult time carrying buckets of water.
The snow on the trees looked like fluffy
gowns. The icicles like sharp glittering
swords. We played games and pretended
we were ice men protecting our castle.
One night it was so cold we could see our
breath as little puffs of smoke mixed with
frost. The roof leaked and we had to put
pans and bowls to catch the water dripping
from the holes. We gathered around
the stove with our brown army blankets
sipping hot chocolate, and if mama was
home, enjoying hot biscuits from the oven.
There were happy times at the
Christmas season, there was a great
celebration. A parade of children,
marched down the street, singing
and playing to the music. There was
hot apple cider and little sacks of
candy.
Then we would gather around the
tree to exchange presents and sing
Christmas carols, it was so much fun
and took our minds off the problems
that seemed so bad.
Again we grew to like this town, but one
more time we cried with tears and
said goodbye. Mama said big girls
don’t cry. But this would be our last
trip, for the next town would be where
we finally settled.
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