Snowmen

I live in a small town, one that until last year had an operating power station from the mining days. It's a part of our history but with the smoke and the heat, it eliminated a lot of chances for snow unless it was around minus 10. The kind of temperature where it was too cold to enjoy it. However, the first time that the coal plant was closed on boxing day none less, we had our first real snow. The first snow deeper than an inch, nearest Christmas and one I could share with someone who enjoys it. My dad was getting older, my mom doesn't like the cold, and my brother thinks that snow is for little kids and enjoys his online friends more than his family it seems. But my boyfriend of nearly a year was sleeping next to me when I shook him and opened the blinds to a blinding white glow. He was not impressed, to say the least.

“Chris, Chris! Look snow, actual real snow.”

“It snowed in February, remember?”

“We didn’t have this much! We managed enough for a snowball fight but this is like boot deep.”

“Okay...” He turned over onto his side away from me, clearly not sharing my enthusiasm for the white glitter covering every inch of our garden.

“Chris come on,” I turned him over and kissed him on the cheek, “let’s play in the snow!” He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile at his nearly 18-year-old girlfriend acting a third of her age.

After a long hour or so eating breakfast and getting geared up to enter the 0-degree temperature we stepped foot onto the snow-covered patio, un-gloved and un-scarved. Hats on and coats zipped. Chris was already armed at the other end of the garden with a handful of snowballs and a garden chair as a barricade or shield.

He missed every shot from the 5m distance, whereas I got his head and his stomach and missed a few until my hands got cold and I retreated to get gloves.

I got back and missed a few more shots, and he charged at me and hit my stomach then my hand. I then stopped trying to hit every part of him before heading into the front garden, it was then when we saw it.

Every other house had a snowman in the front garden, different heights, designs, hats, scarves, the range was unbelievable. “Wow... looks like everyone had the same idea.” He looked at me and my next-door neighbour slanted 3 tiered, fat snowman finished off with a saucepan on its head. “That one’s got style.” I laughed,

“We can do better though.” He nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

He was in charge of rolling up each layer, and I collected the snow off of the cars and the back garden to add to the collection on the front grass. Just as we had finished the first ball to be his bottom half, the family over the road came outside and started their own snowman, as it seemed their first attempt didn’t go too well. A half-built snowman with a needle prick for a neck but was missing a head. Chris turned to me and smiled. “This means war.”

I grabbed him a pair of gloves and a bucket full of snow, hoping to speed up the process of rolling, especially since the grass had only a few patches of snow packed onto the top of it. We looked over the road and all three children managed to be on their second layer too, already. So I helped roll and lift on the second part and even the third part which was made from the snow in the back garden. We stood in front of our creation and looked at the compacted snow, now skimmed over and smooth on the edges, dark patches from the leaves encased in ice and snow. We smiled before Chris muttered under his breath that floated through the air, “One more layer”.

I agreed.

Once the head was on we had to fix a face onto our almost 5ft tall snowman, a foot taller than every other snowman on the street. We had won, superior to the other snow creatures on the other driveways and streets. I picked a few pebbles up from next to our fence, enough to create a BTEC smile and eyes. We had to be careful though because if I pressed in a little too hard the head could fall off and we’d have to make another. The only thing missing was a nose, but I couldn’t traipse snow through the house or waste a precious carrot that we could use for a good roast dinner. So using my interesting art skills I grabbed a handful of snow and tried to press it into a nose-like shape so that it would finish the look.

And oh boy, did it...

His long wide nose in between the two £2 sized pebbles, seemed to finish it off perfectly, all he was missing was attire. A hat that suits his quirky personality, something to keep the chills of his own ice as it melts down his back away. So the longest scarf I can find, a cowboy hat from the summer inside. It was all that it needed to win the curb wars, for our snowman to tower over the already melting snowmen on the other lawns. Over the road had finished, their fat-bottomed snow man finished off with neon yellow and pink accessories. Those things are what tell you the difference between a snowman made by children and one made by engineering students- but it didn’t matter to us. Whether we knew how to build an engine or a snowman, the hours spent in the snow made me feel like a child again.

I looked at Chris and smiled, as he was already smiling at me. It was a morning covered in snow. I was covered in snow. But using that snow we made something amazing.

And now a week later, the snowman is still standing.