Buddy's Best Snow Day

Buddy sat by the window watching huge flakes of powdery beauty, drop from the sky. Each flake fell delicately onto the landscape, turning it white, like frosting on a cake. His chin rested on his hands as he stared at the magnificent wonderland. He could no longer see the steps or the porch, magic had covered them almost a foot deep.

An image began to build, a giant snowman with the new red scarf Buddy had gotten for Christmas, wrapped around it's neck. He could use the torn mittens, the ones that had snagged on the fence post, for his hands.

Buddy jumped off the sofa and ran to the mud room. He began to throw all the stuff that was in the basket, onto the floor. He rummaged through it and found an old jacket, a crumpled up hat, a pair of snow pants and lots of mismatched socks. A pillow case from the laundry room served as the perfect holder for his finds.

Leaning the full pillow case beside the door, he began to dress to go out. This in itself was a lot of work and Buddy began to sweat beneath the many layers of clothing.


“Hi, honey. Maybe you better wait until the snow stops, before you go out to play. It's really coming down hard.” His mom had heard the clatter from the kitchen and come to see what he was up to, knowing that his little brain was working overtime. She quickly realized that he had big plans, noticing the pillow case by the door.

Big blue eyes looked up at her. “Aw, Mom. I have to go now. It might disappear if don't hurry. Wait til you see what I'm going to build. He'll...I mean, 'it', will be awesome.” The last snow they'd had, had come and gone so quickly, by the time he got off the bus that day, it had completely melted away. He was taking no chances today. He had a plan.

“Well...don't stay out too long, I wouldn't want to lose my favorite little man, out in that blizzard.” She picked up his glove and held it for him to put on. “Now promise that you'll come in when your cheeks get cold. Okay?”

Buddy nodded and picked up the heavy load by the door, grunting under the weight of it. Finding that he couldn't open the door while holding onto the heavy bag, he looked up at his mom with pleading eyes.

Mom opened it and closed it behind him, pulling the curtain back to watch him. She had to laugh at his ingenuity.


He shoved the bag down the steps in front of him with his foot. Carefully, he tried to hold onto the rail, while his boots went down deep into the snow, until he felt the hard surface of the next step. Finally at the bottom, he pulled the bag behind him until he reached the perfect spot in the yard. Right in the middle. He wanted everybody that drove by to see his creation, once it was finished. Sharing was a big part of Buddy's personalty.

In a little while, he had two giant snow balls rolled out, side by side. One was a little bigger than the other— both were bigger than him and he was panting from the hard work.


His mom and dad watched from the window, as he struggled to roll the second huge ball on top of the other, falling down on his butt, time and again. They had to laugh at his antics. Finally, when Buddy laid back in the snow and gave up, they took pity on him.

Bundling up quickly, they went out in the yard, trudging through the deep snow to the place their son lay. At least it wasn't snowing as hard and the flakes that fell on their eyelashes quickly wiped away. Buddy was still lying in the snow, tears flowing down his red, cold cheeks.

When he saw his parents standing next to him, he sat up. His dad reached down and took his hands, pulling him up and brushing the clunks of snow off his backside.

After a hiccup or two, he said, “I just can't do it.” Wet gloves went to his eyes, as he tried to cover his tears. He knew he was too grown up for tears now, but they just wouldn't stop.

Daddy hugged him tightly. “Maybe we can do it together.” He bent his head down, even with his son's. “What do you say, want to try again?”

Buddy nodded, then hugged his dad.

“I'll be back in a minute.” Daddy went down to the shed, making huge tracks in the yard. When he came back, he handed Buddy two boards.


Buddy looked at the boards and frowned. His dad just didn't understand how to build a snowman. At least not the kind he had in mind. Big old boards would look funny stuck into it.

Daddy took one board and tucked it into the largest ball, one end on the ground, then he did the same with the other one. “Okay, now we have a bridge to push this other one up on. Y'all come and stand on the side of me and push.”

After much shoving and pushing, mostly from daddy, the second ball of wonder stood atop the biggest one.


“Yea, we did it!” Buddy was ecstatic. Gone were the tears of desperation, replaced with bright eyed joy. His creation was beginning to take shape. Immediately, he began to roll another ball, his chapped and red lips spread into a wide smile of joy.

“Let's save that one for a little while, son.” Daddy was worried that Buddy was getting too cold. “Let's go get some hot chocolate and warm our hands, then we'll come back out later.

“I really want to finish it, Dad. Please.” Despite the fact his hands were almost frozen, he didn't want to give up.

“Come on son, just for a warm up. We'll come back in little while.”

Buddy dropped the ball of snow, his smile gone.


Sometime later, cuddled up next to Cocoa, his lab, Buddy was happily drinking hot cocoa and munching on chocolate chip cookies. “I'm really warm now, Daddy. Can we go back out and finish the snowman?”

“Soon.” Daddy's favorite show was on T.V. And he wanted to finish watching it, not realizing that darkness was falling outside.

Buddy got up and went to the rack by the wood stove. His clothes were toasty warm and dry, so he began to lay them in the chair, ready to put them on. “I'm just going to get dressed, so I'll be ready.”


His dad glanced over at him, then out the window. Dark. He knew that Buddy would be extremely disappointed if he didn't at least get to put the top on the snowman. He got up and began to dress too.

They walked out into the night with flashlights and a plastic bag. Daddy showed Buddy how to place his flashlight on the bag and point to the half made snowman. Together they managed to form a ball large enough for the head and placed it on the body. Buddy immediately ran to his bag of clothes sitting on the porch and dragged it over to their undressed frozen statue.


“Here, Daddy, you put the hat on him. I'll put his gloves...oh no.”

“What?”

Buddy's face fell. His lip pouted and his eyes were cast with sadness. “We forgot to make arms. Now what do we do?”

Daddy covered his desire to laugh with his hand, and instead said, “Come with me.” Daddy saw that his son was a heavyhearted little boy, standing in the glow of the flashlight.

Buddy followed his dad over to side of the house. Sticking up through the snow, were branches from the tree they'd cut down earlier in the week. Daddy hadn't had time to cut it up and get it ready for the wood stove yet. He reached into the snow that covered the pile and pulled out two thick branches. They were old and had dried out, so he was able to break them in two.

“Yea, Daddy! You made arms. And fingers too!”

While Buddy stuck the branches into the snowman's upper body and fiddled with the gloves, trying to make them stay on, Daddy disappeared. Leaving Buddy alone in the dark, with only the glow from the flashlight to keep him company. He looked around. It was deathly quiet. He stepped on a piece of the broken off branch. The sound of it snapping scared him so bad, he fell down face first in the snow when he tried to run. Scrambling to his feet quickly, he spied his dad coming out of the door, a sigh of relief puffed from his chest.

“Daddy! You left me!”

“Only for a minute, son. I'm right here now, and look what I've got.”

Buddy squinted his eyes and leaned closer. “Oh neat. Can I put them on?”

“Sure.” Daddy held out his hand and Buddy picked up the Oreo cookies.

Daddy stood beside him. “Try digging out a little hole for them to fit into. Like this.” He scraped a circle of snow away and waited for Buddy to place the cookie into it. “Perfect.”

“That's so cool, Dad. Good thinking.” He finished all the cookies and stood back to look. “Here, Daddy, put his scarf around his neck.”

Daddy reached down and picked Buddy up in his arms. “You do it, son.”


Buddy was thrilled. He'd been thinking about that red scarf around his snowman's neck all day long. Now he was the one that got to put it on, because his dad was helping him.

“Oh yeah, a few more things to add.” Daddy reached in his pocket and pulled out a carrot for a pipe, two figs for eyes, and a small tin plate for a mouth.

Buddy put everything on except the mouth. “How does this work?”

Daddy took the tin plate and shoved it deep into the spot for the mouth, it formed a perfect smile, shiny and bright.


Buddy hugged his dad's neck. “I wish the cars going by could see him.”

Daddy didn't answer.


They walked to the house and Buddy was sent to take a warm bath. When he came downstairs all snugly warm in pajamas, he climbed on the sofa and looked out the window. The snowman stood tall and regal in a blue glow of light.

Buddy's mouth hung open in delight, his eyes wide with wonder. “Daddy! Look!” He ran to the door and opened it wide, letting a rush of frigid air into the room. There on the ground beside the snowman, he saw the flood light that was used at Christmas to light the house decorations. Daddy had placed it so that it shined directly up the snowman.

“Thank you, Daddy. It looks so wonderful.” He gently closed the door. “Do you think people will like it when they drive by?”

Daddy hugged him. “If you listen carefully, you'll hear the toot of a horn every now and then. I think they like it a lot.”

Buddy went back to his spot of the sofa and waited. Soon he saw the lights of a car coming down the street. It slowed down and tooted the horn. His little hands clapped together in delight as he looked over at his father.

“We did good, Daddy.” His little face lit up with love. “Together.”

 

Cowgirls & Home

Life in the 'farm lane'.
This story was inspired by events that really happened, hope you enjoy it! Thanks for stopping by today.
Carole



A cold sharp wind cut across the top of the hill in the pasture and went right through my long johns. Brrr...sure could use that fire and a cup of coffee 'bout now. Winter had come late this year, but it roared in today, with a face burning kind of chill. I wrapped my muffler tighter around my face and covered my nose with it. Trudging further up the hill, my 'ol legs began to cramp. Just as I almost stopped to turn around and head back home, I spied them. Six little girls. I call them girls, but they are actually cows, or will be soon enough.

Right now, they're 'tweens'. Between the age of becoming mamas, and still scittery teenagers, not grown enough to know better 'bout nothing. They stick together just the way my daughter and her friends did in High School, as if they whisper to each other. "There's a boy in the field! What should we do?"

Lord that was a long time ago. So long in fact, my hair has gone thinner, and a lot grayer. But I still remember those young girls having a good time sliding down the hay bales in the barn. Laughing and giggling, messing 'em up, and me yelling at 'em to quit ruining my hay. I'd find 'em there every time they came over, and I'd fuss. They live far away now...

Anyway, the other day, while I was gone on a rare trip to town, these little girls got spooked by a low down hunter. Yep, there he was, him and his dogs, chasing one leetle 'ol rabbit through my field, where he had no business being. Them dogs yelping, scared 'em so bad, they tore threw the fence and skedaddled through the woods and over the hill to the next farm. Not to be seen again—until today. I'd almost given up looking again too. It's been a long haul, hunting for 'em for days, across land I don't know, with thickets and briars in abundance. Mud sliding over my gum boots and low hanging branches slapping me in the face. Got more'n a few cuts for my trouble too.

But, there they are, hungry and tired, with no idea of how to get home, or how they ended up lost in the first place. Home is where the hay and feed is placed in front of them everyday, rain or snow or cold, they get fed. I'm not complaining mind you, well, not much anyway. Guess I wish they'd 'preciated the feast everyday a bit more and come on home on their own. I'm a getting tired now, ain't as young as I used to be.

Suddenly, while I stood there, the wind whipping my too long hair and muffler around, the biggest cow jerked her head up high in the air and sniffed, eyes wild and round. She weren't used to me wearing a red muffler. The others got the message and did the same thing. They all took off for those blasted woods again, at a full run, kicking their heels high in the air at me.

I took out my handkerchief and wiped my eyes. Wish I'd worn some glasses for protection against the wind. Well, nothing more I can do now, they're gonna hide in those woods for the night anyway. Least I got an idea where they bed down at night now. I looked across the field...so far to home, but I got no choice. Least I know about where they're hiding out. Tucking my head down low against the wind, I struck out for home. Must be at least three miles or better.

My eyes and nose wouldn't stop running water. When I stopped to wipe 'em, I heard a noise. Up ahead a me, there was a four wheeler coming straight at me. It stopped right beside me.

"Hey there old timer. You out for a walk on a day like this?"

A young man about twenty pulled his helmet off and grinned at me. "No son, I been looking for my cows."

"Looking for 'em? How do you lose a cow?"

I bent forward and looked closer at him with my eyes kinda squinty. "I know you, don't I? You're Scott Moseley, ain't 'chu?"

"Yes, sir. Can I give you a ride home, you're a long ways from there, ya know."

I had to laugh, picturing myself sitting on that contraption. "I don't know if I could stay on that thing, son. I ain't never rode one before. And my legs are so worn out, they done started cramping on me."

The boy laughed. "Don't worry, you can stay on just fine. Come on, climb aboard."

He pointed to the place where I needed to rest my feet, and I climbed up on that loud contraption. I'd seen plenty of 'em over the years, just never had the occasion, nor the inclination to ride one.

When it took off, I thought I was gonna fall off the back and reached out to grab something. All I found was air for a minute, then I got hold of Scott's jacket. I just about pulled him off the seat, fore I got myself balanced again. He laughed and gunned the engine again, leaning into the wind. I did the same, following his lead and hid my face behind his body.

He took me right up to the back door of my house.

I managed to climb off without tangling my feet together. "I thank you, son. It shore was good of you to help me out." I reached my hand out to shake his. "Why don't you come in for a spell and have a hot cup of coffee with me? Warm you up a bit, fore you head on home."

The engine went quiet and Scott got off the machine and shook my hand. "Thanks, I will."

I tell you, I was more'n surprised that he'd agreed, young folks don't usually want to spend time with us 'ol folks, but I opened the door and slid my boots off by the door. He did the same and followed me to the kitchen. My wife had a steaming pot ready for us. Course she was a bit surprised to find the boy with me for a second or so. She recovers quick when company arrives though.

"Hello, Scott. Well husband, looks like somebody found you today, what about the cows? Any sign of them?"

My wife never missed a beat and reached for another cup to fill for Scott, while I grinned at her.

"I found 'em, once. When they saw me they took off into those blasted woods again." I shook my head.

She started laughing. "Well I reckon they did run the other way. Have you seen yourself all wrapped up in that gear? It's no wonder to me you're tired, that stuff must weigh a ton." She looked over at Scott and winked.

Scott put his hand over his mouth to disguise a grin.

Let 'em make fun, it's cold outside. Old bones need lots of layers to keep from breaking in this weather.

Scott finished his coffee and got up to leave. "I'll come by in the morning and help you get those cows back home, if that's okay with you."

I don't know if the shock showed on my 'ol face, but it was there, I could feel it. I couldn't hardly speak. "I'd shore thank you, son. I shore would." I reached out my hand again. When he took it, I covered it with my other one. "I shore would, son." My head was shaking no, but I was saying yes.

“Thanks for the coffee, folks.” Scott waved and did a wheelie for us on his way down the driveway, dust climbing all the way up through the branches of the cedar trees, as he drove out of sight.

I stood at the door with my arm around my wife's shoulders and waved. "Young folks. You just never know what they're up to these days."

"Oh shucks, 'ol man. Young folks are just the same as they've always been. Good hearted and willing to lend a hand when they're needed. When 'ol folks let 'em, that is." Her tight lips said it all.

She'd never quite forgiven me for yelling at the girls playing in the hay, she didn't think it hurt it none for 'em to have fun.

The next day, Scott was true to his word and showed up at the door round six thirty.

“Smells mighty fine in here, ma’am.”
My wife smiled and said, “Take a seat, son. I'll have you some bacon and eggs fried up shortly.” She passed him a plate piled high with fresh baked biscuits. “Dig into these while you wait.”

Scott didn't need to be told twice. He smeared one with butter and just about ate it whole. I had to smile. Youth, they didn't think twice about filling an early morning hunger growl with butter and biscuits. These days I'm having to watch all those good foods with cholesterol hidden in the flavor. I miss it too. One biscuit with either jelly or butter, but not both. Yep, those were the days, when I was younger.

I shoved my empty plate away and leaned over my coffee cup, watching from the corner of my eye as Scott scoffed down three eggs over easy, a pile of bacon and three more biscuits. Yep, those are the days. A rap on the door took my attention from Scott.

When I opened it, my good friend and son-in-law was standing there. “What 'cha doing knocking, was the door locked?”

Chase grinned at me and said, “Yeah, guess I'm early. I was hoping you might have an extra cup of coffee before we go hunting.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Hunting?”

“For cows,”he replied.

“Oh, I got 'cha. Course we got coffee, take your coat off. Come on in the kitchen.” I could hear the sizzle of more bacon as we reached the door to the kitchen. My wife would soon have him breakfast made too. One thing is for sure on a farm, if you land in the kitchen, you don't leave hungry in the morning. I'm pretty sure there'll be a pot of soup ready by lunch time too. Hope there's some chocolate cake to wash it down. “Ya'll go on and eat, I'm gonna feed the stock. When I get back, we'll make a plan.”

I got back to the house pretty quick, the boys were leaning against the truck looking at a map.

“I printed this map off the computer last night. It shows this whole section of land, including all the paths that have been cut by the hunters. Scott will take the four wheeler in on this side, and you and I'll walk in from here.” Chase pointed to the places on the map. Everybody needs to wear orange.” He reached into the truck and brought out two orange hats.

I reached for one and stuck it over top of my plaid wool hat, that has flaps to cover my ears. “Thanks. I didn't even think about this. There might be some hunters in there, I guess.”

Scott took off the camo hat he was wearing, brushed a hand through his hair and tucked the orange cap down on his head, cupping the brim tight to form it the way he likes them. Chase and I both got a good laugh, watching him primp for a ride in the woods. Only the birds and maybe a stray coon was gonna see him today, but he wanted to look good for 'em just the same.

Chase and I climbed in the truck and followed Scott down the drive, eyes peeled to the edge of the woods, just in case. I knew in my heart, it was in vain, to hope them girls had found their way closer home during the night.

The wind had died down a bit as we began to carve our way through the woods. I'd never been in here before, even in my younger days, when I hunted with the boys in the neighborhood. Thick carpets of wet leaves, made walking hard. Shadows created by the honeysuckle still holding their leaves, made me think of bears. A branch breaking in my hand as I reached for it to pull myself through a thick patch, sounded like a gunshot. Sweat starting running down the back of my head and into my shirt. It'd been 'bout an hour since I went one way and Chase went the other. I stood real still and listened. Silence. Not a bird or leaf moved in the dense thicket I'd made my way through. Tall pines offered a sliver of sunlight through the top, and saplings became shadowy creatures, mangled and tortured looking.

I leaned against a sapling pine to catch my breath. Great puffs of vapor rose into the air from my mouth as my warm breath hit the frosty atmosphere. My hat was almost off my head from sweat, but the cold penetrated my hands and toes. Not enough socks or gloves made to keep it at bay. Had to keep moving in the circle Chase had laid out. Although, I couldn't tell now if I was going in the right direction or not.

Lord help me, I'm lost! Now ain't this a fine kettle of fish. I raised myself up to my full height, tired of leaning forward to see the ground and keep from falling.

Find the sun 'ol man. Find the sun for direction. I peered up toward the sky, through the veil of green pine needles above me.

There it is! I'm still heading east. Relief settled through me and the cold didn't seem near as fierce. It's a sad thought to think I've gotten so old, I can't find my way out of the woods. I'm still okay, but a cup of coffee would sooth my soul right now, toes too I'm thinking. Bright light shone through an opening beyond the thick brush I was in. It crawled around me like gnarly fingers reaching out for me. My steps were hurried now, I wanted to see that big open field of winter wheat in front of me— up close and personal.

Made it! Green—everywhere I can see. Except— for six cow-girls that dotted the scene with black, a hundred yards in front of me. My girls were right there, halfway between the woods line and the path where we left the truck. Happy as larks they were, grazing on that luscious wheat. I squatted down and rested one knee on the ground, so they wouldn't spook again. That'd be all I need. I didn't want to, but I took off the orange hat, the wool hat, the too big for me P coat, and the red muffler my wife had insisted I wrap around my neck. Neatly stacked in a pile, to pick up later, lay the warm outer layers of my attire on the ground, my protection from the bitter frigidity. Now, for some reason, I took my hands and straightened my shirt and pulled my pants up neater.

I must'a figured they'd know me better this way and I'd take the cold, in order to get 'em home.

Clearing my throat first, I called out. “Come on girls. Come on.” This was the voice I used everyday to call 'em up to eat. Most days, they came a running.

Six heads came up fast and turned toward me. The biggest one, kind of turned and walked to me a few steps, trying to decide if she remembered me or not. Another one joined her and they stepped a few feet closer, then stopped. The others couldn't quite decide whether to see if that sound was worth bothering to stop eating or not.

“Come on girls.” I began to walk real slow toward the path. Cows are naturally curious creatures, so they followed. The closer I got to the truck I could see Scott and Chase standing beside it. I made a motion with one hand for them to hide. Them orange hats would send those girls skedaddling fast if they got sight of 'em. The boys tucked down beside the truck, hidden from sight, and I kept walking toward it. When I reached the truck, I grabbed a yellow bucket from the back and showed it to the girls and shook it. The grain rattling around was a sound they knew well. They came running then!

I poured a little of the grain out of the bucket onto the path and let 'em nibble at it. They wanted more, so I started walking for home, humming a little tune, one they were used to. Now, I ain't no singer, but I'm a heck of a hummer while I do chores. They followed that yellow bucket as close as they dared get to it, one almost stuck her nose in it. I had to make it last, so I kept going, a little faster now.

Now, cows are color blind, so they tell me. I don't believe it, no sir-- I don't. This 'ol yellow bucket was the same one I used everyday. Those girls knew that bucket belonged to them and they weren't giving up until they'd feasted on the remainder of it's contents. I'd give it a shake every now and then to let 'em know there was still some in it. Cows are mighty greedy when it comes to grain, they can't tear themselves away from it. They'll even lick the ground for every last morsel.

Scott and Chase spread out behind us, just in case the girls got bored and decided to return to their grazing in a foreign land. They could kind of keep 'em heading my way just by walking along. They did a fine job of it too. Not too close, but close enough to head 'em off when they kinda wandered sideways a bit. I just kept going, not looking back. Pretty soon, I gave 'em another little taste of grain when we got over halfway home. Just enough to tease, but left enough in the bucket to shake around as I walked.

Those girls followed me right through the gate into the pasture they'd called home for nine months. Every one of 'em pulled up to the feed trough and looked at me with big brown eyes, hoping for more grain. They got more alright, plus some of my best alfalfa hay. Not that I abide by rewarding bad behavior, mind you. I was just grateful to have 'em back again safe and sound.

Scott and Chase leaned on the gate, orange hats in their hands, smiling. They were just as glad as I was to see those six girls lined up in front the trough.

Lunch was ready when we went in the house, along with a roaring fire. We huddled up in front of it, with our hands held to it as close as we dared, rubbing them together.

“Well boys, hope nobody got frostbite out there today. My toes kinda feel blistered, or numb, I can't tell which yet.”

“Me neither,” Scott said. “But I'll be allright, soon as get some of that stew in my belly. Man, I'm hungry and it smells so good!”

We laughed and gathered around the table. I reached out for hands and gave the Lord thanks. For the food, the return of the girls, and for the kindness and helping hand of friends and family.