I guess every one loves their home town for a different reason. When I think of my hone town I think of water. I think if Running Springs and creeks and crystal clear streams
Southern California has been in a drought for ear and as I run the winding mountain trails of my home town my feet kicking up dry dust I remember a childhood full of snow.
I was at a memorial service for a friend over the weekend and as we looked through an old photo album with some neighbors we all reminisced about the March Miracle in ’91. We got four feet of snow in that storm. That just dosnt happen any more.
When I remember growing up in Running Springs it seems like it was always winter.
I remember snow days building giant snow caves after it would snow four feet in a single storm.
We would have to walk two miles to town when the food started to run low.
My mom would send us kids to the nearest market bundled up in gloves, snow boots and sweaters with a list of eggs, bread and bacon, just the essentials to get us through the storm or until dad could make it to the nearest Price Club down the mountain, one hours drive away with out winter weather conditions.
I remember nights my dad would walk home from wherever his two wheel drive Honda CRV would get stuck. Even chained up it wouldn’t be able to make it up the icy streets some winters nights. In the morning we would walk back with dad, shovels and kitty litter to put under the tires to try and get the Honda unstuck.
When I remember growing up in Running Springs it seems like it was always winter.
I remember snow days building giant snow caves after it would snow four feet in a single storm.
We would have to walk two miles to town when the food started to run low.
My mom would send us kids to the nearest market bundled up in gloves, snow boots and sweaters with a list of eggs, bread and bacon, just the essentials to get us through the storm or until dad could make it to the nearest Price Club down the mountain, one hours drive away with out winter weather conditions.
I remember nights my dad would walk home from wherever his two wheel drive Honda CRV would get stuck. Even chained up it wouldn’t be able to make it up the icy streets some winters nights. In the morning we would walk back with dad, shovels and kitty litter to put under the tires to try and get the Honda unstuck.
I miss those winters and every time we get a touch if weather the creeks and streams come back. As I run my familiar trails I’m constantly passing over streams.
It reminds me of the good old days.
