The storm passed. Cold white clouds parted and a bright sun reflected off the white landscape. It had been a big storm, dumping more than a foot of snow, which the winds whipped into huge drifts. One drift was six feet high and stretched across our lawn, parallel to the driveway.
“Mum, can I go out and play now?” I asked.
Mum looked outside. “OK, but be careful. Stay in the yard.” She warned. Mum bundled me up: sweater, thick winter coat, hat, scarf, and a pair of winter boots that were so heavy, they felt like lead blocks on my feet. The strong wind ripped the door from my hand as I stepped outside. With Mum’s help, we got it closed, but not before every loose paper on the kitchen table was blown to the floor. Carrying Dad’s shovel, I waddled to the drift by the driveway. It was packed tight by the wind and easily held my weight. I climbed to the top and looked out over Dad’s car. I was on top of the world.
I walked to one end and started to dig. I placed the blocks of snow I dug out of the hole around the opening of my soon-to-be snow cave. They stacked up like the walls of a castle and would provide shelter from the attacking armies. When I was done, the cave was long enough to stretch out and deep enough for me to crawl in, turn around and face the opening. The sunlight penetrated the roof, bathing everything in an eerie, turquoise glow.
My friend Jimmy stopped by. We went to work and soon had half the drift hollowed out. There was enough room for us and a couple more friends. Other kids joined us, teams were picked, and a mock battle was staged. Jimmy and I, with a few others, manned the fort as the opposing forces attacked.
I lifted my head from the hole. A snowball sailed in my direction. I ducked, but not fast enough. My hat was ripped from my head and powdered snow floated into the cave as I retreated to safety. “That was close!” Jimmy said.
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