[Bordermarch] Snow

[Lathrop, Dave]

Greetings Bordermarch,

I woke this morn and saw the woods covered with heavy snow, Oh the Joy! Snow ball fights!
Termiticus was already outside waiting for me, as I stepped from the house he attacked me with a barrage of snowballs. Since he was born and raised in southeast Texas I had little to fear; he has no snowball making skills.
I was born in Bennington Vermont and my first experience with snow was when my mother scraped out a depression in the snow and set me in it, she let me stay there overnight, I was one week old!  I did survive and became one with the flakes.
I learned to make a premium snowball early in my youth. To have a good snowball one must have what we called "packing snow." Packing snow is not dry, and only slightly wet. The snow this morning was perfect packing snow.
I gathered my first handful from the top of the garbage can. It was awfully convenient, and I didn't have to bend over to scrape it from the ground. One must maintain eye contact at all times with one's opponent during a snowball fight or one might get daubed on the top of the head.  When your daubed on the head with a snowball, the snow usually manages to get down your shirt collar, and then makes its way into your pants.
Termiticus lofted a huge snowball that I easily avoided. I let loose with a size A2 snowball, it managed to hit him in the armpit, it effected some collateral damage to his face. His next shot hit the dog that was standing twenty or so feet behind me. He ran to avoid my shot, but he slipped on the deck boards and busted it all over HE Elisabeth's new wicker patio furniture.
My last shot was the obligatory size A-33 snowball. I compacted it to the consistency of a semi-melted cheese-ball, and gave it coating of pine needles. It looked like a flying hedgehog as it sailed towards Termiticus's face. Termiticus was sporting a hoody coat, no doubt  thinking the hood would ward his head, Naboo, Naboo! The A-33 caught the edge of the hood and disintegrated into the darkness between the hood and his head. As I made my dash for the house, Termiticus put together the A-Bomb of all snowballs. He used two hands to throw it at me just as I stepped through the portal that leads into HE Elisabeth's new kitchen. When I left for work this morning HE Elisabeth had still not spied the melted snow on her kitchen floor, I'll blame it on the dog or something similar.
I topped the hill of our drive and saw Termiticus in the rearview mirror. He had removed the wheels from his skateboard and was last seen attempting to snowboard down the flight of snow covered stairs leading to the barn.

HE Santiago