The first snow of the season has already descended on us.

It must have started last Friday night, but I’m not really sure. I kept hoping that if I ignored it it might go away. Then I wouldn’t have to launch a massive search for all the gloves and boots I stuffed away somewhere last August.

The snow didn’t blow away, but I didn’t have to search for the winter accessories either. When I got up, just a little before eight, I found various closets spewing forth winter clothes. When I got downstairs a few minutes later I found the doors wide open and most of our children out in the yard happily pelting each other with snow balls.

How they managed to get up, locate hidden clothing and start a snowball fight almost noiselessly is a mystery, particularly when you consider that they can’t even get out of bed on a school morning without rocking the whole house.

As I shivered before the open door it occurred to me that they had finally learned what we tried to teach them all summer—leave the door open! Now we can spend all winter teaching them to close it.

A quick inventory of their attire seemed to indicate that all were bundled up adequately except for Joe and John. They hadn’t zipped their coats. I called our three and five-year-olds in for zipping and then discovered that they didn’t have any gloves.

Their hands were covered, but instead of mittens they sported their best socks on their little hands. This presented another mystery. When I send them after socks for their feet they always bring either their brother’s socks which are way too big, or they find a pair with holes in the toes or heels. For their hands they can locate their best socks which I thought we lost weeks ago.

It was Eddy’s turn to go shopping with me, so when Daddy got home from work we went downtown to buy Joe and John some gloves. The first counter of gloves we found were for girls, but our first grader didn’t notice, so I was fairly sure his little brothers wouldn’t either. I found two pair and started to the cashier, but got sidetracked by some other bargains.

My arms were pretty full when I happened to see a counter full of boys gloves, so I told Ed to pick out two pair while I watched. Then I gave him the girls gloves and told him to return them to the other counter.

We gave our purchases to the clerk and as she started to ring them up Ed began to tug on my sleeve. I shook my head to indicate he should wait. The clerk remarked that the one pair of gloves had no price tag. I assured her that we got them all on the same one-price counter. Ed tugged my sleeve more insistently. I gave him a stern look.

The clerk smiled and asked if there were anything else. I noticed she was charging us for three pairs of gloves. “Only two pair of gloves,” I said, indicating which two., Ed tugged again. I ignored him. The clerk glanced at the extra gloves and laid them aside to be returned to stock.

“My little boy can take those back for you,” I offered. Ed nodded his head enthusiastically. The clerk thanked us nicely but said they could take care of it. I started to leave, but Ed stopped me with a pleading, “Mother!” “What do you want?” I asked impatiently. “My gloves,” he said. We rescued his gloves from the stack of things to be returned to stock and went home.

When we got home I discovered that the kids have found a new use for paper cups. They make dandy molds for snow balls. “Much faster than with your hands,” they assured me.

And so as I regard the assembly line snowballs, the mountain of heavy wet clothing and boots distributed all over the floor, and the chill wind blowing in the open doors, I can’t help but wonder, “If winter comes can spring be far behind?”

Editor’s Note: This column was first published in the Daily Advocate on November 19, 1969.

Kathleen Floyd is a volunteer citizen columnist, who serves Daily Advocate readers weekly with her columns, Back Around the House and All Around the House. She can be reached at kfloyd@woh.rr.com. Viewpoints expressed in these opinion pieces are the work of the author. The Daily Advocate does not endorse these viewpoints or the independent activities of the author.