The snow was almost three weeks late, but it finally arrived in full force.
Just this morning I awoke to the jarring sound of a hammer pounding on wood and metal. As I stumbled out of bed, I found my fifteen year old son sitting on the kitchen floor and hammering nails into the wooden boards of their old-fashion runner sled. Over the last couple years they used that thing so much that the original rivets dislodged from the wooden slats. But my son is never one to perceive such obstacles. He simply reversed the boards to avoid the previous rivet holes and somehow attached the wood to the metal frame with nails.
We have no hills on our street, but the kids took turns pulling one another on that old runner sled. The first snow is always such a magical event for children. But I have to admit that this year was even a little magical for me.