In 1978, in the rural township in Ohio where I grew up on Lake Erie, we had an epic snowstorm. People still refer to it as the blizzard of '78. I missed an entire month of high school. That is, school was closed down because we were pummeled by snow. I don't recall anyone owning four wheel drives at that time. Which seems funny to me now, given the brutal weather along the Lake Erie coast. I remember taking my dad's old Ford tractor (circa 1945) to the tiny grocery store up the road, because we couldn't get my mother's Buick LeSabre out of the driveway. The big sliding doors on our graceful old red barn even froze shut. I spent an entire month building igloos and snowmen and riding the neighbors' snowmobiles. I even managed to take my old buckskin quarter horse out for a few snowy rides.

I think that was four of the best weeks I've ever had.