The magic of snow

Like many in High Plains, last week my house in Oklahoma received a glistening blanket of snow. It was our first snowfall of the winter season, and also my baby boy’s first experience with such a magical weather event. I bundled him up in his outerwear and strapped on his “Cousin Eddy” trapper hat so he could see it firsthand.

HPJ Field Editor Lacey Vilhauer with her son, Eli. (Courtesy photo.)

Little Eli was just shy of his 8-month milestone when he saw our snow-covered yard, so he didn’t have much of a reaction. He merely looked around at the fresh powder and winced at the sun’s reflection off the bright white snow. After his lower lip started to shake from the frigid temperatures, we decided to come inside.

No, he wasn’t overly impressed by the winter wonderland I was so excited to introduce him to, but next year at this time he is sure to be fully-engaged by making snow angels, pitching snowballs and enjoying some snow ice cream—one of my favorite winter incentives.

I realize not everyone welcomes snowy weather. Snow can be a nuisance to shovel off a driveway or scrape off a car. It can create hazardous road conditions, makes farm chores a pain and no one likes cleaning up after snow-covered boots in his or her home. But to me, if it’s going to be cold, I want some snow and the problems it can cause are just part of it.

Although Eli won’t remember this event when he gets older, I will always remember it. We don’t receive snow very often where I live, and every time I look outside after a snowstorm it’s like I’m seeing snow for the first time and I’m in awe of its beauty all over again.

I’m continually mesmerized by the perfect sparkles that populate untouched snow. It’s incredible to think it falls from the sky and lands so perfectly to coat the trees, fence lines and rooftops. Even artificial intelligence couldn’t create a more beautiful picture than God makes when he lets it snow.

Even though much of the snow we received last week has melted to reveal the dormant grass below, I can’t wait for our next snowflakes to fall—especially because I will be watching my son delight in the magic of this winter weather as he grows up.

Lacey Vilhauer can be reached at 620-227-1871 or [email protected].