742: Can't Let Go

When I was in elementary school I particularly loved winter. The black top would be plowed after every snow storm, making this huge bank for us to play in. I'd pretend to be an arctic wolf and dig myself a den. Even several days after the last snow, when the bank would start to get crusty and the packed powder had turned to granules of ice, I would still tunnel and build and slide down its slopes. We did have a playground, but in winter the snow bank was best and in the warmer months the field with its sparse trees along the fences and sections of tall grass was absolutely the best. Who needs monkey bars when you have actual nature?