The Snow Ball Effect

Let's talk snow.

I'm 8 years old. I'm sitting at home covered in chicken pox watching from my bedroom window as the world outside becomes solid white. I live in Georgia, this occurrence is rare. I'm not sure why mom let me go out and play, but there I was in 4 layers of clothes with only my mouth, nose, and eyes exposed to the cold wet slush. The whole process started by clumping two handfuls of snow together, then another, and another. Within minutes I had created a small mound, much like that of an oddly sharpen sand castle crushed under the weight of some reckless passerby. A mound is added to that mound and now I'm ready to roll. My gloves aren't water proof and my fingers are growing cold and shriveled, but it won't stop me. I sway the mound to the left; it gathers the white from the earth. Now, we're really starting to move - rolling, rolling, adding new layers of snow one at time and leaving a long straight trail of dirt behind. You can see where this began, where it is at, and where it might go. The size of my creation has doubled, no tripled. Eventually my snow ball will be too large to manage. I won't be able to push it anymore. I'll leave it for dead and let the Georgia sun slowly melt it away.