My socks are a colorful pair today. They have green dots of sparkly thread and big snowflaky things on them that made me think about sled riding today. I live in a semi-flat state, but I grew up in sled riding country. When we first moved here, I asked about the large mound of earth that seemed to hump up in the middle of a park. I was told it was a sled riding hill. It would have been rude to laugh. Growing up, I lived at the top of the street. The street would be closed off and a multitude of neighborhood kids would trudge to the top and take off on our Flexible Flyers down the unplowed street, laughing, smiling, with wind-red cheeks and runny noses. Once at the bottom, we’d trudge to the top again and like shampoo, we’d lather, rinse, repeat until we were called in for hot chocolate. That was sled riding. We made memories. Even though I laugh at the sled riding bump where we live now, those families and kiddies are making memories that will stay with them, much like the way I remember the hills of home.
(If these look familiar, they’re the same pair that are in my icon, but this is the first time I have worn them this year. However, this is not the first time I’ve taken a picture of them. What can I say? I have odd hobbies.)