I heard today that two granddaughters had to shovel snow this morning. Karin in Montana and her sister in Wyoming. That brings forth so many memories. Growing up in Sweden, we young people loved the snow. We had so much fun and there were so many activities we could partake in by just going out the door. When our children grew up in California I felt sorry for them, for what could they do for exercise in the winter.
One or two winters it was cold enough that the straight between us and Denmark froze over completely. I was too young to venture very far out, but I remember how good the cod tasted that my older brother caught after he had made a hole in the ice. The snow ball fights between girls and boys were memorable. The girls were inside a thick stone wall encircling the garden of Mollegarden. We could go there early in the afternoon and build up a huge supply of ammo, snowballs that is. We could duck down behind the wall when the fight began, so I admit it was an unfair fight. But so much fun. And Mr and Mrs Anderson who owned the place would always make plenty of hot chocolate and cookies for the girls. ( They had no sons) And then we were lucky in that some years some adult would pour water on the tennis court and we could pretend we were playing hockey.
In the summer you could walk through the village and no boy would speak to you but in winter he still would not speak but after we passed each other he would throw a snow ball at you. No matter how much it hurt and no matter how much snow would run down the back of your neck, it did not matter. It felt good knowing that you had been noticed. If the boy was the one you had your eye on, it felt even better.
I will tell you more about Mollegarden next tim i write.