Wind and light, powdery snow are a combination that create amazing things. The winter of 1947, as I have mentioned in an earlier blog, was a particularly cold and snowy one. That was the first year that I had to wear the ugly brown snowsuit if I wanted to go out and play in the snow. Sometimes I really thought the adventure was worth having to do so, and this was one of them. The enclosed back porch on our house was a later addition and sat like a box on the middle of the back of the house, which faced east. The prevailing winds came from the west. As a result, the porch and winds along with powdery snow would create some really high snowdrifts as the snow would be blown in an almost circular motion by the wind. I am not sure that this is the highest this drift became that or any winter, but, as you can see, at the time of this picture my Dad took, it was already taller than I was. I can remember many winters looking out the dining room windows and watching the vortex of the wind creating these awesome shapes. When it was like this my Dad, until years after I married, did not even try to shovel the snow at the back of the house. We would usually have to come in through the attached garage. They didn't have rooms called "mud rooms" in those days, but we actually had the equivalent, a "snow room." Though we were supposed to take our boots off either in the garage or the little unheated room just as you entered the house from the garage, we could take off the rest of our snow clothes in a nice heated room that had a radiator just under its window. The radiator had a metal cover on it, which was perfect for drying wet mittens. After you had gotten most of the snow off your boots, you could also bring them in and tuck them under the radiator to dry off and warm up, too. It was really nice on return visits to the snowy outdoors to be able to put on the preheated mittens and boots. And I am sure my Mother was glad that we weren't tracking snow all over the inside of the house, too. But I digress. Obviously, snow drifts of this size did not disappear quickly. They would, over the course of the winter, thaw a bit, refreeze, and eventually become solid enough that you could walk across the top of it too, by just stepping off of one of the two top back steps. That was really fun. While I don't think I would like to have a winter with this much snow again, I wish it would snow. I would prefer that to the raw damp and gloom of the winters I spend now.