Front Porch: Aging body means a changing relationship with snow

I’m developing a new relationship with snow.

Used to be, if it snowed, it snowed, and I just went about my business a little more cautiously. There was a time I welcomed it, waxed the skis and drove to the mountains.

I made snowmen and snow angels with my kids, pulled the boys along in sleds, and even tried to hitch up our Dalmatian for a Spokane dogsled experience. Bonnie, unfortunately, just wanted to turn around and lick the kids’ faces, but our neighbor Tom’s Samoyed knew what she was bred to do, and pulled the kids through the neighborhood, me chugging alongside.

Ah, those were the days.

But now, when it snows, I check the anticipated amount in order to evaluate the wisdom of my next day’s planned activities. I also check on the temperature so I’ll know if I’ll be dealing with the fluffy stuff, which is much easier to walk in or drive on (unless it’s really deep) or whether it’s going to be that heavy, wet slick snow that’s all slippery and then freezes at night, making it into a skating rink.

I don’t care if you have the balance of a tightrope walker or operating a four-wheel-drive tank, there are some snow conditions that are going to be pretty impossible to walk/drive in safely. Even if you’re not old and wobbly like me.

I realized the changes and possible perils a few years ago when I was doing a story for this newspaper about the home in Spokane’s West Central Neighborhood of one of the original Tuskegee Airmen. It was winter, and I wandered out into the street to get the best angle for taking a picture.

Found the right spot, took the photos and, while still standing still, found myself sliding just a bit on the ice under my feet. I had good boots on, with a good tread, but I slipped a little, and had all I could do to maintain my balance.

It was at that moment that I realized I could no longer rely on my instincts or strength to reliably keep myself upright if what I was standing on was potentially a movable feast. If I went down, it’s likely I would not be able to get up again by myself.

So, with new awareness, I carefully put my arms out, penguinlike, and ever so slowly make it off the ice and onto the pavement.

The same winter I walked up a hill in Audubon Park for a story I was doing about the fireplace there in order to get some pictures. Going up was fine, but it was icy, and I realized there would be some sliding on the way down. I made it in vertical position, but there was a near faceplant.

My on-foot movement in the snow, and how I approached it, changed after that.

And now, a few years later – years that have included one hip and two knee replacements – it’s even more of a challenge.

I still pretty much drive where and when I want in the winter, but I do have to preplan what the walk will entail whenever I get to where I’m going.

These are first-world problems, and I’m learning to navigate them, but they’re just one more adjustment that comes with advancing years that I’ve added it to the list.

I still love the snow. I love it best when I’m going to be home all day in a warm house, with a warm beverage and a lovely view out the window.

But no more snowball fights. Sigh.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by email at upwindsailor@comcast.net