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Friday, April 20, 2007 

soft snow

Soft Alabama snow.
The snow in Alabama is soft and wet. Please no sexual comparisons this is a family blog.
The snow up north is like sand compared to Alabama snow.
My sister lives in Pennsylvania, she did live in Maine. She told me she had to carry a snow shovel around in her car. She would bring it into work every day so that she would be able to dig her car out of the snow every evening. To this I say, egad.

Snow has not accumulated in Birmingham in over 5 years. When I was a kid it snowed every year. In the early 90s it snowed a foot and a half. This happened one earlier 100 years prior, which is about right.

I remember one good snow in college when we got 9 inches. There were awesome drifts up to 3 feet. We all went out late at night to play in it. I was dating a rather nice girl at the time, and I hit her in the face with a 12-pound snowball. Latter I was standing under a cedar tree which she shook unloading half a ton of snow on me almost burying me. It was great.

I once built a snow cave consisting of 15 square bails and a large canvas tarp covered with snow. I attempted to sleep in the cave, but a skunk seeking shelter invaded it. A brief battle ensued, the skunk and I in hand to gland combat, neither the skunk or I won. I had to bathe in tomato juice on the porch in 30-degree weather. The skunk headed out for parts unknown to sleep elsewhere. This was the start of the school term where I was taught from a desk outside the window at the school. Gratefully, they left the window cracked and the teacher handed my assignments out the window. Ah the life of a country school boy.

When I was a kid we went to cedar town Ga. We had a great snow and a 4-acre farm pond froze over. The ice was over 5 inches thick we could walk on the pond; this is a rarity in the southern United States. My sister and I lit fireworks on the ice on a cold 5-degree day; years before she became estranged from the rest of my family, I miss her.

I can remember the coat I was wearing the shoes the pants the hat. I remember feeling close to my sister thinking that we will always be friends. We were in our teens and I had stopped thinking of her as a giant pimple on my butt. I guess we are friends but I only see her alternating leap years now.
Oh wont you come home sister snagley

Oh and chickens hate snow.
Snagley out