Yes, these monstrous mounds of snow become like family. We talk to them. We swear at them and laugh with them. We give directions to our homes by saying, “My driveway is just three giant snowbanks north of the intersection.”

Snowbanks are useful family members. They can cool our beer, hold our snow shovels, help us reach the bird feeder and, of course, we all know what our dogs use the snowbanks for!

Let me introduce you to a few of these seasonal guests.

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Little Sandy sits on a snowbank in north Escanaba wearing her saddle shoes. (Karen Wils)

Hello on this frosty Friday morning. I’m Nils the Swedish snowbank. I am situated right down here by Little Bay de Noc. The crew will be coming in soon from lifting their nets. Hopefully they will have tons of fish.

As the wool-clad fishermen come ashore, they gather around me. A nice plump well-rounded snowbank buffers the icy wind. Their Scandinavian egg coffee is poured into mugs and rye crisp toast is shared in the shelter of Nils the Swedish snowbank of north Escanaba.

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Greetings, I’m Boris, the strongest, toughest snowbank in Escanaba. My muscles were built from the wings of the streetcar snowplows that cleared Harnett Avenue. I am a mixture of ice, snow, slush, coal dust and jack pine needles. The butcher and the barber that have shops on this street feed me shovels full of fresh snow almost daily.

On some Saturday nights, though, a few comrades come out for a wee sip of vodka. One old immigrant sits on top of Boris the snowbank and plays his concertina and spills a few drips of vodka for me!

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Ahh, it is the Lenten season, and I am thick-waisted and nearly as tall as the dormant lilac bushes. Pull a kerchief over me and anoint me with ashes. I am Leona a good Croatian snowbank. Give me my broom and I will sweep my porch steps and the church’s steps clean of snow!

I’m a good snowbank. I provide a playground for the dozen of children which live in this house. Sometimes they drop little bits of povitica from their mittens. It’s the tastiest coffee cake ever!

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Bonjour, I am Etienne. Forgive my bushy whiskers, suspenders and caulked boots, but I’m a hefty heap of snow up at the logging camp. Shovels, snow scoops and roof rakes created me. I’m sure I’m bigger than Paul Bunyan. Spring break up is almost here, and there’s an excitement in the camp.

The hours of daylight are increasing so much that the jacks come out by me after the evening meal and smoke their pipes. The sap is rising in the maples, and my melting days are just about here. But don’t worry, I’ll be back next year.

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Yes, it is true. Water, rain, snow, clouds and snowbanks are all recycled stuff. Mother Earth only holds so much fresh water, and we should use it wisely and respect it.

But after long winters like this one, it is okay to go out and kick that super-sized snowbank in the yard right in the shins!