The Snow Cave
BY CLIFF LOWELL
The north wind was blowing and snow was falling on Wednesday when school was dismissed. We put on overshoes, wrapped scarves around our heads, pulled our caps down tightly, buttoned our coats securely, and pulled on mittens before starting for home. Dad finally met us with the car, but we didn’t warm up until we sat by the stove at home.
A two-day blizzard followed, keeping us home from school.
Saturday morning dawned fair and warming to reveal drifts of snow in the farmyard and across the pasture. Paths were scooped to the outbuildings so chores could be completed. In the afternoon my three sisters ventured out to slide down the hills on a sled and a grain scoop. They came back with tales of a cave they’d dug into a snowdrift. “It has a door and a window,” Doris explained. I wanted to see it, but the girls were too wet and cold to go back out again.
Jessie’s boyfriend came on Sunday. After dinner I impatiently asked, “When can we go out to see the ——— ———,” and Gladys admonished with, “Shh! It’s a surprise!”
At last we bundled up and headed out across the pasture. As we rounded a hill, Jessie dared Maurice to walk on top of a drift while the rest of us scurried below. There was a hard crust on the snow, and Maurice walked right across the cave the girls had dug.
Jessie asked him to go back across and stop atop the cave. “Jump up and down,” she said.
His first jump broke the snow crust. With a loud cry he disappeared into the cavity below amidst an avalanche of snow and laughter from the girls.
I hurried to examine what was left. The top of the door was gone, but the window was still intact. The floor was filled with snow. Jessie helped Maurice climb out.
“I wish I’d seen it before you wrecked it,” I lamented. “Why did you have to ruin it?”
“Well, it was our cave,” Doris said, “and we could do with it what we wanted.”
This is an excerpt from Clifford E. Lowell’s book, The Early Years. Cliff is a contributing writer for Lincoln 55+ magazine.