The Winter of your Childhood

I remember them, all the beautful winter of my childhood. I loved them. I loved to slide down the narrow walk with the 90° bend where we would rush down the snow- and ice-covered steps right onto the streets (which was no problem since no one could drive there anyhow). I remember standing at the back of our little snowplow. We had one ourselves to keep the hotel parking lot free. I remember walks on crisp winter days under a blue skye, the snow crunching under our feet. And of course I remember skiing. I really miss skiing…

So I am glad for these kids. There aren’t as many winter as there once were. Snow has become a rarity. But this January it was simply magical. Down to -20°C over night, ice crystals as huge as my thumbs. Ski lifts being opened all over the country, achieving new records on opening days. And, of course, the sparkle in the eyes of the children.

Most people who know me know that I am not much a children’s person. But that doesn’t mean that I can see what kind of memories days like these make…


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