“It’s cold as a witch’s monkey,” he said
and took extra blankets and went to bed.
The snow is high as an elephant’s knees
and when you step out your eyeballs will freeze.
When you are feeling you just “have to” go
you must run fifty feet in the deep snow.
A much faster run gets you back inside
right up to the pot belly stove you glide.
The house had no insulation at all
the fire was from wood we cut in the fall
which didn’t give off very much heat
so we all huddled within a few feet.
We stood and listened to the radio
which forecasted there would be much more snow.
The warm spring seemed to be so far away
since we hadn’t even had Ground Hog Day.
Neighbors with shovels all gathered around
to shoveled the road all the way to town.
We had not heard of wind chill in that day
as we hurried to put out bales of hay.
With our axes we chopped holes in the pond
a task for which nobody was fond.
But the job which really raised our eyebrows
was on a cold stool while milking the cows.
Did you notice that not once did I say
anything about walking each way
two miles uphill to our old country school
or riding both ways on our horse or old mule?
An old man seems to remember these things
Which seem in their way to have taken wings
causing them to grow with each passing year
so fact and fiction are no longer clear.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
irreverent Georg
Newfie Hugs, Rose