It's still too cold for me, even if winters are warmer

My ability to deal with winter and cold weather has decreased at the same rate as my age has increased. This story will be printed just a couple of days after the official first day of winter. I am already counting the days till spring!

About the only solace I can take is that the days are now getting longer. I just hope that this is one of those milder winters that we sometimes have in this part of Missouri.

I look back to the days of my youth, and remember those wonderful times, when I truly enjoyed the winters. We had lots of activities, and we actually looked forward to the Jack Frost time of year.

One of my favorite recollections involved the hunting expeditions we used to enjoy. My father and grandfather were both hunting enthusiasts. While we hunted more than one type of game, our favorite sport was quail hunting.

On the east side of our family farm there was a mile long hedge and fencerow. We hunted quail at several locations, but this was our favorite, and generally offered us the most coveys.

To me it seems as if we had harder winters back then. More often than not, there had been a light snow the night before our hunt. As we followed our bird dogs along the hedgerow, you could see a multitude of animal tracks in the snow.

My father cut hedge every winter, and used the posts to make fences that would last for years. The leftover branches were always piled to dry, so they could be burned later. In these "brush" piles you would often find quail and literally hundreds of rabbits.

It makes me sad to realize that both of these game animals are in very short supply today. More importantly, their demise was not caused by over hunting. There are many reasons, but that is a topic for another story.

When we were on those hunting trips we often passed by several of our farm ponds. I am not offering any scientific research to support my contention that the winters were colder in my younger days, but the ice is another testament to my premise.

On those farm ponds, and later here in Nevada at locations like Radio Springs Lake, we ice skated often. I'm not talking about just a couple of days either. There were often times that you could go ice skating at Radio Springs for a couple of weeks or more.

My current quail hunting friends will attest that there are rarely snow days during hunting season now, and when was the last time you saw ice skaters on the lake at Radio Springs? It's getting warmer during our winters, and I don't need any scientists from either political viewpoint to lecture me one-way or the other!

The hill that descends down the number two golf course fairway at the Nevada Country Club was the most famous of our sledding areas in my youth. It is still a popular sledding spot these days, but there are often winters when there is little snow.

I have one memory from my high school days on that hill that did not end too well. Somebody brought a fairly long toboggan that would hold about eight riders. We made several breath taking trips down the hill, before the accident.

Anne Pearse was the daughter of long the time Nevada family doctor, Roy Pearse. At the bottom of the Country Club hill there is a bump that can be really dangerous if you hit it at high speed on a sled.

Our full toboggan hit that bump and all eight of us went flying (literally) in every direction. We were never sure what Anne hit, but she got a nasty cut above her eye. I can assure you there were several very "sheepish" teenagers when we walked into the ER at the hospital. Dr. Pearse was a wonderful doctor, but he had a stern no nonsense demeanor, that could make you very uncomfortable. The look he gave us that night I will forever connect with the definition of "withering!"

The winters of my youth always seemed to have more snow than we do these days. Snowmen, snow forts, and snow ball fights, were part and parcel of growing up during those winters.

Snow ice cream was a delicacy that we looked forward to. Many were the time I came in from playing too long in the cold, with mittens and clothing soaked. My mother always seemed to have the other winter treat ready, hot homemade cocoa complete with marshmallows.

My memories of those winters and the many activities are still fresh, but I have no wish these days to experience them again. To be honest, I spend more time now thinking about another winter term, "snowbirds."

Several times during the past few years, I have travelled to Florida for a winter vacation. As I am writing this story, there is a chill in the air that I can feel noticeably in my fingers, as I am typing. The idea of warm weather for a few weeks, devoid of having to use the furnace, is very enticing.

The winters here seem to last so much longer than when I was young. When I go south for a break, one thing that really is obvious besides the temperature is the color of the scenery.

The forlorn grays of winter here are depressing. The brief snow we had here last week made things look magical for a few moments, but I want to see green not gray.

Yes, the wintertime here is way too cold for me these days. The youthful pursuits that I once enjoyed, I bequeath to the younger crowd. Get me south for at least a few weeks with the other snowbirds!