Snow

“Mom, it’s snowing!”

“Oh, I wish I was there with you!  Take a picture so I can see it!”

That was how a conversation typically went whenever I would call my mom and let her know that it was snowing in DC.  That woman loved snow.  When I was younger, I remember when my mom would make ice cream from snow.  But never the first snow of the season.

“You don’t use the first snow of the season; you have to wait until the 2nd or the 3rd.  And you have to make sure that it’s pure white and doesn’t have ice mixed with it.”

Then she would make it.  I’m not sure what ingredients were used, maybe some vanilla extract, but that’s about it.  And it didn’t snow that much in South Carolina when I was growing up, at least not often enough to have multiple snow days each year.  But I distinctly remember my 9th or 10th winter when my best friend lived around the corner, we made snow angels in my front yard, and my mom made us ice cream.  And it was delicious.

I’m not sure what difference it made whether it was the 1st snow or the 10th snow, but it was embedded in my head to not use the first snow of the season if I wanted ice cream.

Every time it’s snowed since October, I’ve thought about my mom, even if it snowed less than an inch.  Even today as I was cleaning off my car, I thought about her.  The snow was so pure and white and, without any ice mixed in-the perfect batch with which to make ice cream.  My first thought was, “I should scoop some of this in a bowl and make some ice cream.”

When I purchase my first home, I’m getting an ice cream maker.

Until next time, I’m just a Southern girl…in the city.

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