In a field by my house, the water has collected into a perfect skating pond. Children gather to skate and slide with nothing in their hands but sticks and snow.
I remember when I was 11 years old–the same age as my oldest–and I, too, found a frozen pond deep in the woods. My friend and I claimed this spot as our Winter Wonderland, and we twirled out majestic figure eights on the ice. Eventually, we just rested on our backs or stomachs–either watching the snow fall above us or gazing into the frozen world beneath us–and listened.
A frozen pond–especially one that’s only a few inches deep–hasn’t lost its wonder for children. They race outside to the pond and twirl out their own figures. There’s something about walking on water that thrills the child within us; I also ventured out with my children and skated across the ice.
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Did you skate on a frozen pond when you were little?
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I skated on a frozen creek that ran behind our house, venturing far too close to the edge of the ice to watch the water flow from beneath the ice and tumble over rocks. I felt daring and exhilarated. Somehow I did not fall through to the rushing water just inches beyond my skates- one of many I should not have survived. Which makes me sound adventurous, but really I was just stupid.
I love this memory of yours. . .