The drifts, that were formed by the wind and snow this weekend, reminded me of a drift growing up. It was one of the winters after our basement had been poured but the house had yet to be built.
One morning when I was headed across the street to do chores, Dad said he wanted me to check something out. He told me to walk so many paces one way from a given starting point and then to turn and walk so many more in that direction. I did as instructed and the plan had been to have me end on the top of the drift hanging over the edge of the basement. I don't remember for sure if I simply wasn't heavy enough to break the drift or if he had not told me to walk out far enough or if I figured out what was going to happen before "falling" for it.
I would have been fine had it collapsed since it was only about a four foot drop and there was clearly a great deal of snow. My father is quite the prankster and really a clever fellow. I miss his sense of humor and I'm glad when my wife tells me I'm just like him because I want to be the kind of man he is in a great many ways.