I grew up on the edge of a national park in Canada - timberwolves, creeks, snow drifts. I really did have to walk home six miles through the snow, like your grandparents used to complain.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I grew up on the edge of a national park in Canada - timberwolves, creeks, snow drifts.
Although I love snow, it messes things up terribly around Seattle, with all of our hills. I worry about my loved ones driving.
I grew up in Canada, man - we all had rinks in our backyards because we'd ice down the grass with a hose and build a skating rink.
Growing up on a mountain in Tennessee, I spent most of my childhood outside.
In the late 1960s, I ended up in Telluride, Colorado. It wasn't like the country club that it is now. It was very raw. Skiing was there, but snowboarders have now entirely overrun it.
I've always walked and climbed; spent a lot of time in the arctic and places.
I remember three- and four-week-long snow days, and drifts so deep a small child, namely me, could get lost in them. No such winter exists in the record, but that's how Ohio winters seemed to me when I was little - silent, silver, endless, and dreamy.
After I retired, I was in Aspen, and after two months of being at home, I started to go nuts. I needed to go somewhere because that was the longest I never travelled.
I'd never walked on snow 'til I was 50, you know. There's no snow where I come from.
I grew up thinking of snow as a luxury you visit.