By Jack Houvouras
HQ 128 | Winter 2025
For most people, winter is the least favored of all the seasons. It’s not surprising, especially in Huntington, where the days grow shorter and colder and the trees are stripped bare. All that is left behind is a dull and lifeless landscape. But what is surprising is when I hear someone state that they hate the winter snow. For me, it’s easily the best byproduct of the season.
Some of the fondest memories from my childhood can be found in the snow. When the conditions were just right, my best friend Rich and I would grab our sleds and head to Ritter Park. There, we would race down the bowl at the Lion’s Den or glide down the ice-covered road beside the tennis courts — we would start at the old log cabin at the top of the hill and coast all the way to Enslow Boulevard.
When Rich and I were feeling mischievous, we would find an advantageous location in the woods along Four Pole Creek and hurl snowballs at passing cars on Enslow Boulevard. Because we were located on the opposite bank of the creek, we were safe from any motorists wanting to ring our necks. That said, every so often someone would cross the bridge down the street and wind their way up to our secret spot. We had some close calls but always managed to slip away.
On the nights before a big exam in high school I would literally pray for snow so school would be canceled. And every now and then, my prayers would be answered. I can still recall those magical mornings when I would wake up, rush to my bedroom window, raise the blinds and look out over the deep blanket of snow. I’d then turn on the radio and anxiously listen to all the school closings. Back then there were few things in life better than a snow day.
To this day, there’s nothing I enjoy more than taking a walk through the woods during the first snowstorm of the season. The trek is made all the more pleasing when it occurs at night. The reflection of the moon off the snow lights your way through the maze of trees. The silence in the air is surreal, and the only things you can feel are the crystal flakes falling on your face and the crunch of the snow under your feet. In fact, it was during one of these late-night walks through Ritter Park in 1989 that I decided to launch this magazine. As I looked out over the park benches covered in snow, I remember thinking to myself, “There aren’t many places more beautiful than this.”
Perhaps most important of all, a good snowfall brightens Huntington’s otherwise ashen landscape. It is a brief respite from the dark days of winter that should be celebrated, not reviled. After all, as the climate grows warmer and warmer, the opportunities to savor a substantial snowfall are becoming all too rare.
