After seeing the rainwater flowing over the ice last weekend, and the subsequent cold snap, I was determined that we would skate on the river this weekend.
It took a lot of coaxing and prodding and encouraging, but I finally got E, Z, and C down to the river late Sunday afternoon (M was away at a friend's house).
Sure enough, the rain had frozen over, but not in quite the smooth, continuous, Hans Brinker-sort of way I had imagined it.
There was a lot of snow and mounds of flaked ice and some wobbly, pine-needle encrusted ice to get through between the more rink-like patches. We made our way a good distance both upstream and downstream, finding the best stretch of ice in the meandering, grassy, willowy part of the stream.
I am like an old woman on skates, so I left my camera behind with our boots while we skate around, missing out on some good photos, I'm sure.
I don't think I would trust my camera (my legs? my general clumsy demeanor?) on ice either. It looks like a fairy tale though. How lucky you are to have that so close!
ReplyDeleteI giggled at the Hans Brinker line. That and stories like it - and probably the recent Olympics - make me think of skating as something graceful and lovely to see. The reality is sadly not quite the same when I actually have skates strapped to my feet. ;)
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