After a long first day, it was time to slow down and experience some of the attractions that awaited us. We began a beautiful, sunny day with a short walk along The Mighty Mississippi River in Memphis. They have several great parks along the river that include bike trails and fitness stations. Tyler and I just kinda stood and watched a tug pushing a large load of barges up river for a few minutes. I got a bit tired watching a few people working hard on the fitness stations and had to take a short rest!

You cannot visit Memphis without seeing Graceland-the home of Elvis Presley. It doesn’t matter if you not really in to his music, but to see where and how The King lived, is worth the time and money. The influence he had on Rock and Roll will never be debated. All that being said, Tyler and I thought how the tour was conducted, was, well, a bit weird. We’ve both been on “audio tours” where they give you a set of head phones to listen to some person narrating information about what you’re looking at, but on the Graceland Tour each visitor also gets an iPad, fitted with a strap to hang around your neck. They hand you this fancy, electronic screen that you put on, open up and rest against your chest, or in some cases, against your belly. After choosing the appropriate language (I really wanted to try the entire tour in Russian, but decided to stick to my native tongue) you begin walking exactly where strategically placed staff people tell you to walk. There we were, along with 50 other people, walking around  like interpretive zombies with these gadgets sticking out of the front of our bodies. I swear we all could have been selling peanuts or popcorn at the ball game! It’s quite the system they have unless you decide to skip one of the attractions, which we discovered was a no-no! Our iPad narration (by Full House Actor John Stamos of all people?) got all out of whack and we couldn’t figure out how to “fast-forward or “rewind” the damn thing. When we realized we couldn’t go back, so we simply walked ahead of the rest of the others, only to be scolded by the security guards! It was rather amusing, but all worth it!

As we left Tennessee and made our way through Arkansas, I had only one destination on my mind-Fouke, Arkansas, home of the Legend of Boggy Creek, the Fouke Monster!

Now if you’ve never heard of the Legend of Boggy Creek, let me you fill in. It’s a basically an Arkansas Bigfoot. A classic  movie (half documentary-half not) was made about the creature in 1972. My brothers and sister and I went to see the original movie in the theater, and as an 8-year old, I was scared beyond belief. I never wanted to wander into the woods again, and never looked out a window at night after that! Today, the “performance” may seem a bit cheezy, but to a certain 8-year old kid from PA, it became a lifelong source of wonder (no, I did not say obsession) and pure awe! When we stopped by the Monster Mart today to buy a few Boggy Creek souvenirs, we were greeted by the owner who began telling Tyler and I about how all the items are made, etc. I then asked him if anyone had seen the creature recently, and that’s when I got excited! He began to describe, in detail,  a sighting that happened just last week, only a few miles from where we were standing. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I accidently blurted out, “Can you take us to that spot?” I knew I had made a mistake asking, but couldn’t help myself. He stood there looking at me as if I was the actual creature, then politely replied, “No, I’m sorry, that’s private property. They don’t like strangers wandering around out there.” I was bummed, but still thrilled to hear his story.  Cathy-we need to return w/Bobo to do our own investigation! Check a big one off my bucket list!

Well, we’re underway! It was all about driving and getting south on Day 1. No stops, other than some eats and bathroom breaks. After 15 hours and five states, we managed to safely arrive at our planned destination for the first night-Memphis, TN. Sister Cathy, you were correct! Damn! Tennessee is a long state from east to west! Especially after already driving 7 hours! This state is 150 miles wider than our home state of PA!

I have to confess, I had a brief senior moment as we started out this morning at 3:30 am (having had no coffee yet). I accepted the challenge of driving the first  leg (Tyler’s Prius). As I approached the Turnpike toll booth, with no other souls in sight, I pulled up and waited for the ticket-nothing. I looked around for a human, but I’m pretty sure they were simply closed! After another minute of sitting there staring at the thingamajig that spits out tickets, I reached out ready to push the button for help. Tyler then sat straight up in his seat, looked at me and said  “It’s green-go! I have an EZ Pass.” I really didn’t have any good response, other than, “Really? When did you get that?” I swiveled my head to take one last glance to make sure there still wasn’t a slip of paper sticking out of the ticket thingamajig, made sure no one was watching us, then floored it! I knew this was going to be a long drive!

Tomorrow, we start checking out some sites-some well known spots (“thank you-thank you very much”), and some spots off the beaten track. Check back for our next entry! Good Night from Memphis!

Now you see them, now you don’t. The birds visiting our backyard bird feeders disappeared in the blink of an eye. One minute we were watching the chickadees, titmice, juncos, doves and cardinals enjoying their seeds, the next minute we look out the window there’s not a single bird anywhere-gone in 60 seconds! It’s not unusual to see them perform this vanishing act at this time of the year-some days several times throughout the day. Occasionally, we’ll see a clue as to what caused the sudden panic to fly away, in the form of a pile of feathers laying on the frozen ground. What causes these pretty, little songbirds to scatter and hide in a dense shrub or evergreen tree? A bird feeder!

Bird feeders come in all shapes and sizes. But, this feeder isn’t an ugly, wooden or plastic object hanging in a tree I made myself, that scares the little birdies away every time the wind blows. This bird feeder is alive! It doesn’t provide seed for other birds, it feeds on other birds. In fact, it is a bird. Specifically, the bird feeder is a Sharp-shinned hawk.

Sharp-shinned hawks, or “sharpies” as they’re nicknamed, are one of three species of hawks classified as Accipiters. These forest-dwelling raptors are characterized by having short, round wings and long tails, which allow them to fly in between trees with speed and accuracy. There are three species that occur in North America, including Pennsylvania. The largest is the Northern Goshawk and the smallest is the Sharp-shinned hawk. The other is the Cooper’s hawk.

What makes these hawks unique from other birds of prey is their aggressive appetite for other birds. Sure, they’ll also eat mice and squirrels and other small mammals if they’re sitting there staring at the hawk, but their reputation as efficient, flying predators gives them an advantage of capturing songbirds. Many times, when one of these critters visits your backyard bird feeders, they may decide to stick around for a day or two, only showing up sporadically, but always perched nearby watching your feeders, and waiting patiently to attack.

It can be rather entertaining watching the small songbirds react to a “sharpie” or a Cooper’s hawk that suddenly appears out of nowhere to try and grab them while they’re sitting there, unsuspecting, and minding their own business cracking open a sunflower seed. Like someone blowing the seeds of a dandelion head, birds flee in every direction! I’ve seen them fly into each other, hit branches and even run along the ground to get away as quick as possible. Most of the hawks’ strikes are misses, but when they do hit, it’s usually one of the bigger species that gets it, like Mourning doves or Northern cardinals. I can see why they target these two species, though. The doves are chunky, and a bit awkward when trying to take off quickly. Male cardinals, unfortunately, are bright red. Need I say more? If the hawk is successful, it doesn’t take long for the other fortunate birds to begin to return, peeking out of the bushes as if to say, “Who got it?” While others seems to reply, “Who cares, it wasn’t us, let’s go get some cracked corn!’ Bird feeders-you got love em’!

Last Saturday it was gorgeous outside. Sunny, very warm temps and blue sky, and then, for about 45 minutes, it began to snow! However, the snow was not cold and did not stick to the ground. It was feathered, landed on the ground, flew above the ground, circled in the sky overhead and was extremely noisy! It wasn’t actually frozen precipitation, the “storm” was a large flock of Snow geese-approximately 20,000+.     

I was standing near a cut corn field in Berks County, as the thick, gale of birds descended into the field from every direction. The blue sky was dotted with loud, white objects that looked like twinkling stars against an indigo background. There were so many I didn’t know where to focus my camera. The excitement caused me to drop one of my lenses and it nearly rolled into a groundhog hole I was standing next to. For nearly 30 minutes, they kept coming, instinctively knowing their safety was in their numbers. I felt like I was in the bubble of a snow globe that someone had just shaken. It was an awesome sight! 

Snow geese (Chen caerulescens) are only visitors to Pennsylvania, passing through our state during their southern migrations in late fall/early winter, and then again in the spring as they head back north. They overwinter in the coastal wetlands, bays and flooded fields in the Mid-Atlantic States and Carolinas, as well as parts of Texas and into Mexico. In the Pacific Flyway they winter in the mild, farm valleys of Washington and Oregon. Where do they come from and return to? The Arctic tundra in Greenland, Canada, Alaska and parts of Siberia. This is where the geese breed and raise young during the short Arctic summers.

If you could see these large flocks, you would never believe their population was once at critical levels in the early 1900’s. Their numbers dropped so low that hunting was banned for the species in the Eastern U.S. Since then, they’ve staged an incredible comeback. In fact, their population has grown so sizeable that they’re eating themselves (and other species) “out of house and home” in their tundra habitat. Snow geese, like other geese species, are grazers. They eat grasses and many other low-growing forbs, and will munch any part of the plant including the leaves, stem, seed, flower and root.

As I stood there staring in wonder at the thousands of large, white (and slightly black) birds flying and cackling all around me, I couldn’t help thinking that I was experiencing a blizzard of feathers, a snow storm of geese!

Happy New Year!

12  Snow Geese Soaring        

 11 Butters Flying       

10 White-tails Grazing    

9 Coatis Sniffing        

8 Ruddys Rafting   

7 Turtles Basking    

6 Rays of Sunshine    

5 Golden Leaves     

4 Woods Together    

3 Elk are Posing     

2 Beagles Beagling   

……and a Red-tail in an Oak Tree   

Merry Christmas to  All!

My alarm went off promptly at 5:00 am. I tried to hit the snooze, but then realized my watch did not have a snooze, and I knocked it off the night stand. It landed somewhere in the darkness of the bedroom, still sounding the steady, soft beeping. I opened my door, stumbled toward my sister Cathy’s room to gently yell to her to get up, but she was already headed toward the coffee pot in the kitchen. It was time to get up. It was owling time!

Believe it or not, we were probably part of thousands of volunteers that were getting ready to head outdoors well before sunrise in search of a few nocturnal birds. We were participating in National Audubon’s Annual Christmas Bird Count-the longest running citizen science project in the world. The 2014 count marks the 115^th year of collecting bird data that tracks long term population changes. Cathy and I volunteered to help in our home area, as part of the Bloomsburg Christmas Count.

What is a Christmas Bird Count? It’s just as its name implies-a bird count that occurs during the Christmas season (not actually on Christmas Day). Small groups of volunteers travel in assigned areas within a pre-determined, 15-mile diameter circle and record every bird they see or hear. The one day count happens between December 14, 2014 and Monday, January 5, 2015. Why do we do this? It’s fun, it gets us outdoors, we see lots of birds (and other critters), we meet new people and we’re contributing to a very worthy project!

If you decide to participate in a Christmas Bird Count there’s a few items you should have in your “toolkit.” First, a bird book and a decent pair of binoculars to see the birds. They shouldn’t have double vision or you’ll be counting every bird twice!  Also, if they come with caps to cover the eye pieces, it usually helps if you remove them first, or everything you try to view will look like an extreme close-up of a blackbird! Next, is coffee and snacks. Coffee keeps you warm and keeps you going! When it comes to snacks, don’t be too picky. Apples, granola bars, peanuts, cookies, banana muffins, chips, pretzels, beef jerky and anything else you can pick-up at the local convenience store or get a sister to bake! For some unknown reason, counting birds makes you hungry, and you find yourself nibbling just as often after seeing a Red-tailed hawk for the first time that day, or seeing your 850^th European Starling. Next, you should bring lots of water to drink. You get very thirsty eating all those snacks. Also, if you’re covering an area that’s fairly rural and with no public restrooms nearby, I would recommend a roll of toilet paper. Why? Coffee, granola bars, peanuts, cookies, banana muffins, Doritos and beef jerky! Need I say more?

We only managed to see 29 species of birds, but counted almost 1000 (many Starlings and Pigeons)! We were fortunate to find a small flock of Horned Larks after much looking, had good looks at Bluebirds, Mockingbirds, American Kestrels and lots of juncos and sparrows. Sister Cathy spotted a Northern Harrier taking off just in front of us. A good find in any count! It really didn’t matter how many birds we observed, we had a great time, saw lots of critters, traveled through some beautiful areas and had the opportunity to spend some time with some old friends, and many dedicated volunteers. It was a great, early Christmas present, and I can’t wait until the 2015 “count season!”

If you’re one of the millions who choose to put up a live Christmas tree each year, what are your reasons for selecting the perfect tree? Is it purely the species, like a Fir or Pine? Is it based on the size, shape and fullness? Does the scent (smell) of the tree have anything to do with it? Or, is it merely a matter of economics-who is it selling them for the cheapest price? Whatever your criteria, picking out that flawless tree can become quite a quest! Even more so, if you prefer to cut your own.

 In the days immediately following Thanksgiving, it seems like small herds of fresh cut Christmas trees begin migrating to every corner, vacant lot or large parking area. Signs of all sizes appear at intersections directing you to drive 10 miles out of your way for the “best selection.” Christmas tree farms are a huge agricultural industry, with much of the business conducted in about 6-week season.

 Cutting your own tree has become quite a trend in recent years. In our area, there is at least a half dozen Christmas tree farms that go all out for your visit. When you arrive, you’re greeted with a cup of hot chocolate and then guided to a tractor-driven (or horse-drawn) hay wagon that will carry you to a field full of natural, emerald-colored evergreens waiting to be cut. To top it off, you can finish your outing with a quick stop in their Christmas shop to purchase an ornament or wreath to compliment your new tree. It’s truly an all-day experience!  However, the “experience” of cutting your own tree certainly has changed over the years.

In 1975, my oldest brother, Jimmy, pioneered a legendary approach for obtaining your own live Christmas tree. It was short-lived, but extremely resourceful and quite entertaining! He recruited (bribed?) my sister Cathy and somehow convinced Pa they could handle the task of acquiring a live tree for the Wood Family Christmas. After trekking through our back woods, my brother declared he had found the perfect tree-it didn’t really matter that it was 40 feet above their heads! You see, his plan was to climb a large Hemlock and cut off the top 8 feet, since the top seemed to be just what we needed in our living room! So, with the skills of Paul Bunyan and handsaw slung over his back, he ascended, branch after branch, until he reached his goal. After a few quick strokes of the saw blade, our new tree came crashing down to the ground, scattering birds and squirrels in every direction and sending my sister diving for cover! Not until they dragged it back to the house and squeezed it through the door, did Jimmy discover it was about 5 feet taller than our living room ceiling. Nothing that a few strokes of the hand saw couldn’t fix! We’ll always remember that Christmas as the year Jimmy re-defined “trimming the tree!”

Today, many large U.S. cities also put up live trees to celebrate the holiday season, including New York City’s famous Rockefeller Center. As a matter of fact, this year’s Big Apple tree came from right here in Pennsylvania, a towering 85-foot Norway spruce from Danville. The White House, too, looked to PA for its honorary tree in 2014. An 18’ Douglas fir, grown at Crystal Springs Farm in Lehighton, has been named the Grand Champion tree and will be displayed in the Blue Room.  In the Keystone State, Christmas trees are grown in every County except Philadelphia, and Pennsylvania ranks in the top five states in the U.S. for number of trees grown.

An added benefit of real Christmas trees is the habitat they provide for wildlife. While growing in the fields, many species of birds may use them for nesting sites. After the holidays, they can be recycled by putting them back outside to act as cover for wintering wildlife, or having them chipped into mulch. Of course, all those growing evergreens also help in providing oxygen for people to breathe. Whatever your vision of the perfect tree might be, don’t wait too long, before you know it, all those “premium cut trees” will be gone! Good Luck with your search!

Thanksgiving. That special day each year when we gather and remind each other of all the wonderful things we have to be thankful for, and……. we eat. For most Americans the meal centers on that wonderful fowl, turkey. Some choose the traditional technique of roasting (stuffed or not stuffed), others may braise it, grill it, deep fry it, broil it or barbeque it. Whatever method is preferred, one thing is almost always guaranteed-leftovers.  Even after the grand feast is over, the delectable surplus of turkey lingers on! Yep, the appetizing opportunities of turkey leftovers are endless. Turkey sandwiches, both hot and cold, turkey pot pie, turkey soup, turkey casserole, and another dozen ways to finish off the delicious bird.

When it comes to eating Thanksgiving turkey, I confess, I’m also a picker and a hoarder and tend to lose some of my common sense. On more than one occasion when no one is looking, I’ve burned my fingers peeling a small piece of crispy skin from the bird while still in the oven. I’m pretty sure this is why I no longer have any distinguishable fingerprints on my thumb and pointer finger. When the family is done with our wonderful meal and the great cleanup begins, I secretly grab a chunk of leftover breast meat, or a large, plump leg that everyone bypassed at the table and stuff it into a plastic container to enjoy, by myself, a day or so later. HINT: Use a container that you can’t see in to (aluminum foil also works well). My experience in top-secret stockpiling of turkey has taught me that most people exploring the refrigerator for leftovers will avoid what they can’t identify right away! I’ve even been accused of disguising leftover turkey as something else so no one else will touch it. I cannot comment on these accusations.

I love this bird! I love seeing a flock of Wild turkeys scratching the forest floor in search of beech nuts and acorns on a crisp October afternoon. I love hearing the loud, rich gobble of an old tom echo from a hillside, as he announces his territory on an early May morning, and I enjoy watching a seasoned hen lead her chicks into meadow in late July, combing every goldenrod for grasshoppers and crickets. Oh, and did I mention I love to eat turkey? White meat, dark meat, legs and thighs. It’s all good. When it comes to dining on turkey, I’m easy to please!

Wild turkeys are much different than their domestic relatives. One main distinction is that, well, they’re wild! Not being captive and not having food provided by humans every day, makes Wild turkeys extremely wary, adaptable and pretty darn smart. A Wild turkey’s home range covers several miles, and a variety of habitats. Each night they’ll roost high in a big oak or pine tree and can escape danger in the blink of an eye. While hunting these birds, I’ve seen them run at speeds that would impress an Olympic sprinter, then take-off like a jet leaving an aircraft carrier, and glide a ½ mile across a valley out of sight, in just a few seconds. In addition, a flock of 30 birds can move through the underbrush as quiet as a mouse and their dark, mottled color is perfect camouflage while traveling through the forests and fields they inhabit. Not too shabby for the bird that Ben Franklin wanted to make our national symbol !

 Proof of a Wild turkey’s craftiness was demonstrated to me one May morning during a spring gobbler hunting trip with Pa. It was 1978 and I had just turned 14 years old. Our destination was Fork Mountain in Wayne County, where Pa was born and raised. We woke up before dawn, ate a hearty breakfast and headed out to a favorite hillside where we knew turkeys might be roosting the night before. There was no trace of sunlight as we walked into the cold, dark woods and sat down next to a few large maples. The only sound came from a single Barred owl calling from a grove of Hemlocks just below us. The stillness of the forest and excitement of just being out there was almost more than I could take! After sitting silently for about 30 minutes, Chickadees and Titmice began singing around us as the eastern sky began showing a soft, orange hue. The last thing I remember at the time was thinking that I just wanted to close my eyes and rest for a minute, before it got light. After what seemed like just a few minutes, we were both suddenly awakened by the sound of leaves rustling and an explosion of “gobbling calls” only 20 feet away! I couldn’t believe it. Pa and I had both dozed off for a short siesta and a huge gobbler had calmly walked in behind us. I quickly turned to grab my gun, which had slid down into the leaves in front of me while I was napping, then banged my elbow on a tree I was half resting against. The big male turkey looked almost as surprised as I did, when it saw this “unfamiliar blob” tumbling around at the base of the large tree. Like a loud helicopter taking off from a pad, it flapped its large wings and burst through the canopy of the trees before I could manage to sit back up. It was halfway to NY by the time I thoroughly comprehended what had happened. I turned and looked at Pa, who was still rubbing his eyes a bit, when I asked, “Did we fall asleep?”With a smirk on his face, Pa replied, “You did, but I was just resting my eyes.”

 It’s generally believed that the “first Thanksgiving” occurred around 1621 in Plymouth, what is now Massachusetts. The Pilgrims and Puritans that emigrated from England brought over their tradition of “being thankful” for a bountiful harvest by celebrating with a large feast.  But that “bountiful harvest” was primarily due to help they received from the Native Americans that lived in the area. They taught their new neighbors how to grow corn and squash, as well as how to effectively fish the local waterways and hunt the vast woodlands, which included Wild turkeys. They accomplished this without the use of camouflaged clothing, high tech calls, blinds, decoys and other gadgets to simply make a Wild turkey surrender. Oh, and they used primitive weapons-no auto-loading shotguns or rifles with expensive scopes.

I wonder if an occasional Native American, or Pilgrim, burned their hand trying to covertly steal an early piece of meat as it cooked over the open fire. Do you think the “first Thanksgiving” had leftovers? If so, I bet a few of them hoarded a few extra pieces away in an unmarked pouch somewhere. Ahhh-the  tantalizing temptation of turkey, for almost 400 years! Let’s All Give Thanks!

It was a chilly, spring morning when we arrived in the tiny hamlet nestled in the west-central Adirondacks. The morning air was cold, but exceedingly fresh. It was the kind of morning that you knew the calendar read spring, but seeing your breath and feeling the biting cold at your fingers, suggested that winter was still trying to hang on just a bit longer. I was visiting the area with my dad (Pa), to do some birding, photography and, hopefully, discover a few Smallmouth bass hiding in one of the many lakes that dot the region.

As we pulled into a small store to grab a quick cup of coffee, and a snack, I glanced at my watch. It was 6:20 am and the sun was just rising over the steep, forested mountain to the east. I grabbed a couple bucks from my pocket, laid them on the counter, and said “Good morning” to the cheery-looking man standing behind the cash register who was bundled up in an old, worn Woolrich jacket. “Morning,” he replied, looking over his reading glasses. “Would you happen to know how we can get to Hidden Lake?” I asked politely. “Yep, just take the first left you come to. It’s up there about 5 miles as the crow flies,” he said, as he counted out my change.

Clutching our coffee cups we loaded into ‘big blue” and zoomed down the two-lane, country road. I repeated to myself, “about 5 miles as the crow flies.”  Really? Have you ever watched a crow fly? They zig-zag, slowly dip and dive, stop to harass any unsuspecting hawk or owl, then change course just to scrape up the last remaining parts of a road-killed rabbit or squirrel. In my opinion, if I were to go “as the crow flies,” we may be driving for 20 miles or more! As I rambled on to Pa about the directions we received, and how I compulsively needed to Google the origin of the phrase on my cell phone, he pointed to three crows flapping over the low-growing spruce trees just in front of us. “There’s your GPS, now just follow them,” he announced, sipping his coffee while holding back his laughter.

After directing the truck over 10 miles of a bouncy, gravel road, we were yet to find Hidden Lake. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. Why do you think they named it what they did? We did manage to spot some early warblers, a Ruffed grouse, and a shy Swainson’s thrush, but still no crows and no lake. We turned the vehicle around, and headed back to our cottage. Hidden Lake would remain hidden!

I had to Google this, or even tap Wikipedia if I must. I then discovered our historical ignorance. The origin of this saying was from early British sailors who would keep a few crows in cages, on board their ships. Because crows supposedly avoided water, they would fly straight toward land when released from their crates, thus directing the sailors to the nearest land. In addition, since they kept the black birds in cages, it’s also where the term “crow’s nest” came from as well. That was our problem! We were going about this backwards. If history was correct and crows did not like water, the birds we saw earlier in the morning were leading us away from Hidden Lake, not toward it!

We returned to the cottage as the sun began to settle in the western sky. Although it wasn’t the body of water we were seeking earlier in the day, our rented cabin was only a short walk from another small lake, that also supplied a comfortable canoe that was tied up to an old wooden dock. As we began to paddle across the over-sized pond, two beautiful Common loons surfaced about 100 yards away and began calling their eerie, calls. Pa and I gently laid down the paddles and sat quietly for a few minutes, neither of us saying a word, but just listening as the calls echoed from shoreline to shoreline. The silence was broken when Pa grabbed his paddle and suggested we target a few trees that had fallen into the water on the far side to cast our lures. “How far do you think it is over to that side?” Pa asked innocently. I paused, then replied, “About a ½ mile as the crow flies!” We both laughed and continued on our mini-adventure.

It’s mid-November, and we had our first dusting of snow last night, here in SE Pennsylvania. It didn’t amount to anything, although it did blanket the grassy areas and covered the last leaves of autumn that still hang on some of the trees. Too soon? If you ask most people, my guess is the answer would, unquestionably, be “Of Course!”

We all remember the scene from my favorite holiday movie, A Christmas Story. You know the one I’m referring to. The famous roadside clip when Ralphie loses the lug nuts as he helps his old man change a tire, then drops “…the big one, the queen mother of all dirty words!”  No, it wasn’t S-N-O-W, but where I live in today’s world, it certainly could be! Snow. That beautiful, soft frozen form of precipitation that most people either love, or hate. With the white, fluffy stuff there doesn’t seem to be any “middle ground.” You either enjoy seeing it as part of the changing of the seasons, or you loathe the mere mention of the word, and cringe every time a weather forecast includes it.

In my early years, it seemed like we always had some snow by the middle of November, always had a white Christmas, and continually had snow on the ground until March, sometimes even into April. As kids growing up in northern Pennsylvania we looked forward to snow. No, we actually craved it! I know it was a different time and we didn’t have much of the technology (that keeps us inside) and other safety concerns that we do today, but snow was fun and snow was magical. We took the good with the little bit of “bad.” Snowfalls brought excitement and smiles, snowball battles, snow forts and snow angels, and of course the famous “snow days.” As I remember, no one really got angry or depressed about snow. It was just snow! When conditions are right, it just falls when and where it wants to. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t target accumulating more on my driveway, or route to work, than it does other people’s areas. No, unlike my dad, we did not have to walk 2-3 miles every day in two feet of snow, uphill (both ways) for four months a year. Maybe our bus drivers with their heavy duty chains were better drivers, who knows, but more likely school districts were not as fearful about all the legal concerns they have today.

Things have changed in the past couple decades, though. Science has proven that climate change is real. This alteration to our environment has brought us milder winters that’s included warmer temps and less snowfall. Yes, it’s true, the real winter did appear once again early in 2014, with frequent snowfalls and the thermometer not rising much above freezing for the months of January-March. But, this was out of the “normal pattern” of warmer winters we’ve grown accustomed to in the past 10 years.

Contrary of how we feel about snow, it’s a very important part of Earth’s climate, and, as we’ve heard too often, is vulnerable to global warming. Many cultures, and wildlife, rely on snow and ice as part of their way of life, and their sustainability. In addition, millions of humans (knowingly or unknowingly) depend on the water that runs off from snow and glaciers. This snowmelt fills rivers and reservoirs that support drinking water supplies, industries such as agriculture, hydroelectric power and recreation, and provides the components for a healthy ecosystem.

Snow happens. I like that. I live in an area that is blessed with the season of winter, including snow, and I hope it continues. I’m going to continue to say the dreaded four letter word. I’ll openly speak it to my friends, family and co-workers, and whisper a little cheer when I hear it in the forecast, and I dare you to try and make me eat a bar of Lifebuoy soap for saying it! Cheers Ralphie!