Snow! Beautiful snow! We berate it, we curse it, we lament it, but we in Minnesota also know of its wonder. Its beauty! How it transforms our world and never for one moment keeps us from being aware of its presence.

Minnesota weather is a gift that never ever grants us complacency; never yields us to boredom. It redirects our thoughts from the moment we wake up. It is an astonishing bounty which Mother Nature has bestowed upon us. Special us! And besides, folks, what would we have to open a conversation with here in Austin if we didn’t have our weather?

Now, if you ever truly want to be bored by weather, just move to Southeast Asia and then you’ll appreciate Minnesota. Everyday there is hot and sultry and a never ending quest to get cooled off and dried out. I remember one year in Thailand when the weather dropped in the highlands to 40 degrees. People were beside themselves with stupefaction and fright. The Queen had blankets distributed, even though many of the mountain folks died of exposure to the cold.

Forty degrees in Minnesota only gets us thinking about stashing our Speedos for the winter months. Bless our cold clime for it has taught us to be upbeat and hearty. Hearty is good. Hearty is hardy. We are a tough, stalwart bunch which doesn’t wimp from nature. Why we’re so weather perky, we’ve even managed to look good in our bunchy layers by adding a bright scarf or a whimsical cap. Yes, we’re awesome! Celebrate it!

And snow! I can’t say enough about it. Here’s a test. Think back to summer. As you drive down the streets of Austin, you can’t help but notice the different yards. Which lawn is better mowed, greener, weed-freer, fertilized and bursting with well manicured flower beds. No doubt about it. Summer in Minnesota is a three- month-long beauty contest between neighbors.

Then comes the snow. As suddenly as it floats down from the sky, all competitions are off. Why you ask? Because everyone’s yard looks the same! Snow is the great equalizer, the leveler of our outdoor appearances. It’s like one landscaper designed every yard in Austin to look the same and we didn’t have to pay a cent for all his work. Talk about democracy!

I would suggest that if you’re thinking about entertaining, do it in winter. Snow really cuts down on party preparation because there is so much less to do. You’re only required to clean the walkway, not mow or weed or deadhead the flowers.

I like the feel of winter clothes. Now many of them are nothing more than fancy pajamas; but just fancy enough to allow us to wear them in public. Remember when we could tell the difference? Clothes were to be seen and pajamas were for the privacy of bed? And what about years ago when the lining of a new sweatshirt was the softest, cuddliest fabric we knew? Where we held off washing our sweatshirts as long as possible to keep from diminishing that unbelievable softness, the pilling starting upon the first touch of water. Now fabrics can’t seem to get soft enough — and stay that way! Softness these days is like the movies where we think the special effects can go no further and yet they continue to do so. If you want a treat in softness, some day walk down the aisles of JoAnne Fabrics and feel for yourself. Note: wash your hands before doing this.

When I was an Austin child, I was always cold. I would stand over the floor register and let the hot air blow up under my skirt billowing it out like I was wearing a large inverted tulip. I was simply not able to pull myself away from its toasty embrace, only doing so when my legs turned ominously red. Later when I had grandchildren, I put their clothes in the dryer while I dried those little ones after their baths. Then I quickly dressed them in that snug dryer warmth. If you’ve never done this, you’re way late in discovering that it’s as close to love as a machine can provide, and quite honestly, I’m thinking it’s the way heaven must feel. And if you’ve never experienced this, then you’re in for a treat straight from Nirvana. Next time you take your laundry out of the dryer, immediatley wrap yourself in it. You’ll be an instant convert.

I must confess to having the odd bewitchment of liking to shovel snow. There is something very satisfying about clearing it away, like vacuuming a really messy floor only on a larger scale. I especially like shoveling very early in the morning before the neighborhood is awake. The world around me — my world! — looks like a freshly frosted wedding cake before the guests dive into it. Not a blemish in sight. It is always reverently quiet in the serenity of those early mornings following a big snowfall — as if Mother Nature is resting after working her head off all night long.

Do you remember snowy nights when you were a teen? After the AHS basketball games (which were followed by dreamy mixers), your current love walked you home. It was incredibly romantic. No Hollywood set designer has ever come up with anything to compare to the magic of it. The nights were absolutely silent while the snowflakes sparkled like crushed rhinestones as they whirled around the street lights. Cold was ignored. Didn’t exist! I never wanted those walks to end. Hollywood Smollywood! We had Austin. Austin in the glory of winter!

And the clothes we kids wore to play outside! It was exhausting to put them all on. Invariably once I left the house and the cold weather hit me, I would have a great need to use the bathroom. But the idea of taking off all those thick wrappings — and missing out on even one minute of the fun — kept me going, my bladder muscles held in tight constriction. One particularly agonizing day when I was about nine years old and working at perfecting the world’s best snow fort, those muscles were put to the ultimate test. Unable to abandon my task, I finally gave in and wet my pants. It took only minutes for my long underwear and snow pants to freeze into stiff, icy leg casts, creating an aura of steam around me. But even that didn’t stop me. Heck, the urge had passed. No need to go inside after the fact. Thus I stayed outdoors for hours more. When I finally did go in the house, the inside of my thighs and calves were raw from the chafing of the coating of ice that had rubbed against my tender skin. Yes, it was a painful lesson, but what a great fort it was!

You see, we were masters of the art of fort building. It took a neighborhood team of kids to create a really professional one, good team building experience. Not sure why we called them “forts,” however, for we never battled anyone from them. They were more like square cornered igloos. I do recall our roofs were problematic, though. A flat, heavy snow roof on a square structure does not work. One point for the Eskimos.

We kids never stayed indoors in the winter. There was nothing to keep us in there. All the fun was outside. And the more snow, the merrier. All the neighborhood backdoor entrances were in a constant state of slush and discarded galoshes where we had strict instructions from our moms to go straight down the basement stairs where we removed our soaked clothing in the hopes it would soon be dry enough so that we could do it all over again.

Every single night — and I really mean that — we ice skated on our neighbor’s rink. It was a cement pad where a large garage had once stood. The neighbor man turned the hose on early every evening and it would be frozen hard for us by the time we rushed through our dinner. There on that crude and small rink, we played a kind of bogus hockey, no one having any actual hockey equipment. I recall my most precious item was an old broom that had been worn down to the stitch lines. It made a perfect hockey stick. I don’t think we had a hockey puck. I’m thinking it, instead, was a flat rock.

You see, the good news is that snow is free. To play in it requires no money. Sure you can spend a bundle on fancy-dancy skiis and ice skates and hi-tech sleds, but consider this. To make a snow man or a fort costs not a single penny. It is the playground of the masses. Even Skinner’s Hill can be slid down on a piece of sturdy cardboard.

And what a treasure Skinner’s Hill is. I just realized it is the one constant in Austin. Since I’ve returned here two years ago, I continually notice what is no longer here; what treasures from my childhood are missing. But, Skinner’s Hill hasn’t gone anywhere and on a winter’s day, you can still see it covered with the fun seekers. Thank goodness no one ever built an insurance agency or a used car lot on top of it!

I know I’m waxing poetic here, but the truth is that what I say is true. Winter was a magical time for us kids. Hmmm, I wonder if it still is?

Peggy Keener of Austin is the author of two books: “Potato In A Rice Bowl” and “Wondahful Mammaries.” Peggy Keener invites readers to share their memories with her by emailing pggyknr@yahoo.com. Memories shared with Keener may be shared or referenced in subsequent editions of “Full Circle.”