Without a great deal of warning, winter hit hard again this week in Turkey Hollow. The forecasts called for a light dusting of snow. We should have known better. By morning we had five inches and the end of the day saw a good seven inches of snow and brutal cold. When I woke this morning the wind chill was -6 degrees and even the cats snuggled deeper into the blankets. Those of us in these hills are getting nervous again today since they are forecasting another 'inch' this weekend. The weather bureau is like the chat rooms on AOL. No one knows how to measure inches!

The snow is still so deep that the deer are staying down in the valley. They fear for the coyotes being able to bring them down in deep and icy snow. However, the wild turkeys who can fly into the trees have returned to the Hollow with a vengeance. As I write, about two dozen of "Ben Franklin's Ugly Birds" are having a field day in my back yard. Can't imagine what Franklin was thinking when he advocated on their behalf to be America's national bird. Let's hear it for the Bald Eagle!

Last night was a beautiful time. Turning on the outdoor spotlights to watch the snowstorm, lighting a fire and having some hot tea made the ambience just perfect. Two cats were sleeping in their bed in front of the fire and the new one, Kansas (see photo), was attempting to find a comfortable place on top of my head. Eventually realizing the head was not made to be his mattress, he settled sleeping around my neck which actually made me feel like Molly Brown with her furs on the Titanic! The atmosphere was just too peaceful to read and my mind drifted back to the winters of my youth.

Winter was our social season in Southern New Jersey. The crops were in, no planting had to be done and we actually had time to mix with the neighbors. Not having television also made times at the Daretown School auditorium and Elmer Grange Number 29 especially important. Now Daretown was a small country school with all wood floors. The auditorium was a small gathering spot with a dreary curtain and small stage. Once a month the square dance 'callers' would arrive with their bands on their usual circuit. People from all over the countryside would fill the space ready to dance the night away.

The men decked themselves out in their Levis, cowboy shirts, boots and Bolo ties. The women had huge petticoats, homemade brightly colored skirts and puffed-up hair. Young and old alike would form the long lines for the first "Virginia Reel". The farmers would 'dosey-doe" with the young children to great delight and much laughter. The band played with the fiddler out front and the 'caller' would bark out orders like a person who loved being in control. "Grab your partners and swing them around," he would shout and then without pausing, "Form a circle and travel the ground!" At every dance there was some horny farm boy desperate to show off that he would swing his partner with such enthusiasm she ended-up flat assed on the wood floor. Of course he would be the subject of endless teasing by the men folk the rest of the night.

As the evening ended, the dishes of refreshments having been taken off the tables by their makers and the musicians having packed their instruments and collected their money, everyone would be in such a good mood. We all promised to see each other at the polka night at Elmer Grange in a couple of weeks. After all, that polka band consisting of all those fellas with names no one could pronounce was supposed to be real good.

Winter was a good time.