Having grown up in the Deep South in my childhood, I had almost no exposure to snow or ice. Therefore, as an adult, I really get into snow at any opportunity. Perhaps I should have born in New England instead, since that seems to be where my heart lives.
Here in North Lake Tahoe, I set out with my children to construct a snow fort in order to battle another family (friends of ours). The picture of my fort, below, doesn't do it justice – – – I am particularly proud of the impenetrable ice wall that constitutes our defense shield.
I happily walked up the stream near this fort in order to pull off solid sheets of ice from the rocks. After I assembled all these ice bricks, I poured buckets of water all over the wall, and now that a frigid night has passed, our fort is invincible.
I am also not beneath psychological warfare. After the opposing father from the other family left his fort, I gathered up some twigs and embellished the front of his edifice with a new moniker:
I imagine the dread battle will be held late this afternoon, as the sun sets beneath the Sierra mountains. One thin inch of moonlight, and the snowballs will begin to fly.
