We built snow mountain slowly, over a matter of days, when the snow was still fresh fallen enough to do something with it. At first, I was a crew of only one, digging and walking feverishly in a circle around the growing pile, shoveling to the center. The boys looked on with some interest but quickly went back to their own snow oriented projects, thinking that I was just scooping for kicks. Oh, I was. But there was more to it than that. I was on a mission to build snow mountain. In our own backyard, no less.

Walk the perimeter. Dig. Throw to middle. Walk a bigger perimeter. Dig. Throw to middle. Frown. Why isn’t it getting any bigger? Dig. Throw. Bigger perimeter. More snow.

Malachi and Zac got the picture and started helping. A crew of one is now a crew of three. Our vision clear, our path obvious. Snow mountain would be the best thing to happen in a long, long time.

I was struck by a vision and immediately told Malachi about it while we kept shoveling. “Son, if we get this mountain of snow big enough, we can dig out the inside and make an igloo!”
“What’s an igloo?”
“Oh, you’ll see.”
He never saw an igloo in our backyard. Google images would later save the day.

Seeing Zac work like a fiend to shovel snow from ground level to snow mountain was encouraging. While not much of it actually made the destination, there’s no doubt that his focused work ethic moved a cubic ton of snow. Seeing Malachi climb snow mountain made me proud, knowing that he sees himself as a conquering hero over even the mightiest of man made structures that are only slightly taller than he is.

When we made snow mountain, it exposed something not seen for a long winter — lawn. We dug right down to the sleeping grass, hoping to make use of every compressed flake. Back then, lawn was a shocking juxtaposition next to the frozen tundra. “Daddy, look! Grass! Its under there!” Caught you, Spring. You won’t be hiding much longer.

This morning I looked over a pile of dirty dishes and out our kitchen window to behold majestic snow mountain, reigning over our backyard and holding strong against the rising temperature. Most of its snowflake friends have moved on, melting into the Michigan earth and making its way to one of our many Great Lakes. Surrounded by newly exposed grass is frail snow mountain, a dwindling monument to a very delightful winter.