Silence means winter is here

Resslin' Around, by Casey Ressler

Cruel and unusual punishment is the only way to describe the "coincidence" of receiving my Cabela's fly-fishing catalog on the very same day snow blanketed the Valley.

Just as thoughts turned to making sure the snowblower had gas in it and locating snow shovels, the catalog arrived, making sure to remind me about what I was doing for the last six or so months. And it was the 2003 catalog, the very same one they sent me last February. It was like they knew it would be snowing, they knew it was the most definite sign that fishing is over and they knew how much I love shoveling snow, and they slid that catalog right in the mailbox.

Welcome to winter, buddy.

As snow blanketed the parking lot Wednesday, sports editor Jeremiah Bartz gave me his thoughts on snow. "Snow is cool if you own a snowmachine or you are four years old. Other than that, it's useless," he said. I tended to agree with him.

Then I got home, and my daughter wanted to go on her first winter "adventure," which usually means walking through the woods behind our house. We do it all the time in the summer, searching for mushrooms, downed trees and berries. But this was the first winter adventure.

Just as we got back in the woods enough to lose sight of the house -- albeit only a couple hundred feet, in a much-populated neighborhood -- the silence was remarkable. The whine of noises made at the various construction sites around our house disappeared. Passing trucks didn't seem to make a single noise.

The only noise we heard was the gentle sounds of snow falling off tree branches onto the ground. It was one of those surreal moments that make you appreciate what you have at that very minute. Snow fell from the sky onto our fleece hats, and we made a practice out of catching them with our tongues.

A half-hour later, both me and my daughter's cheeks were a rosy red as the cold nipped at them. We agreed to make the biggest snowman ever once there was enough snow, and we backtracked our way to the house. We took off our wet outerwear and talked about how much fun we were going to have this winter, making snowballs and hiding them on our many "adventures" that were planned.

The promise of those adventures got me excited about the snow and about the winter.

I forgot that 6-weight fly rod that looked so good on the pages of the catalog, the pontoon boat that was recently deflated for the season and all my summer camping gear that was packed away a few weeks ago to make room in the garage for the snowblower.

After nearly two years of not needing it, I'm already starting to think about how we could soup up our snowblower to make it bigger, faster and more powerful. I want to throw snow from my driveway into driveways half a subdivision away.

I'll trade the winter for the summer most of the time, but maybe it's not that cruel and unusual to enjoy the first snowfall of the season.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor. He still leafs through the Cabela's catalog, however.