Our Rural Roots
Sleds, Snow Signal Go!
In a life of constant "go," my family attempts to squeeze in days dedicated to fun. Swimming in the summer, campfires in the fall and sledding in the winter.
Enjoying winter's wonderland is second nature for me and my siblings. Growing up, my family raised cattle and pigs. This meant we weren't allowed a day "stuck indoors" because of the weather. On the coldest of days bent against a blast of snow, we spent hours in the barns bedding cattle and checking water troughs.
Some days, my Grandma June would be waiting when we got off the bus, her cross-country skis strapped on, poles at the ready. We'd toss our backpacks in the corner of the mudroom, disregard the after-school snack and rush through chores. Cross-country skiing was always an adventure. We skied until the moon rose, crossing the fields, sometimes dragging sleds behind us to use on the few hills dotting our pastures.
These days, my kids join their cousins at Nana and Papa's. My son is the conductor of the sled train, roped to the Gator hitch. He maneuvers through the soybean field and out into the pasture to the sledding hill.
The hill is just a bump on these Midwestern flatlands. A dusting of snow provides enough friction to make the sleds soar. After a few trips down, a path has been established. The cardinal rule is no walking up the sled path. Instead, we tromp a trail off to the side leaving the face of the hill for sleds.
Challenges are given. Who can make it to the creek bank? How many people can fit on one sled?
Hours of laughter later, rosy cheeks and frozen toes stumble inside for a cup of cocoa, a cookie and another chapter of winter memories to add to our book of life.
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-- Katie Pratt, a north-central Illinois farmer, celebrates snow and hot cocoa in equal measure. Find her writing blog at https://theillinoisfarmgirl.com/…
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