Two suburbanite boomers throw caution to the wind, postpone retirement, and move to a farm in Indiana. There they intend to live happily ever after.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Souls on Ice
It takes a lot of faith to step out onto a frozen pond: faith in your own strength; faith in the universe; and most of all, faith in the people who will have to save your soggy, freezing butt if you fall through.
But if you dare, and if you trust, the earth reveals hidden wonders and delights.
This weekend the hubby announced the pond ice was thick enough for skating. He's the only one of us who actually owns a pair of ice skates, though, so for the rest of us it was thick enough for scooting.
The boys and I were timid at first, stepping gingerly on the frosty crust and listening for cracking sounds. There were none. The snow, ice storm, and arctic temperatures of the last two weeks have turned the water to stone--and the ice turned all of us into kids for the day.
Hubby tried out his old moves, zipping between us and racing circles around the edges. I scuffled off to explore the many shrubs and plants I had admired from the bank. To my surprise, the thicket behind the pond is covered in lovely red berries, and the bush that forms a little island has wonderful, spiky seed pods that hang like Christmas tree ornaments, glittering within the ice.
Beneath the ice itself were more surprises. There is a small circle of thinner, clear ice, like a portal into the world below. Up from the impossibly cold water, tiny creatures swam up toward the light. The guys here are examining what may be an insect nymph, no more than half an inch long, its fins beating fast as hummingbird wings.
Could this adventure have ended badly? Sure. But it didn't. It ended in great memories, a warm fire, and hot cocoa. Sometimes, faith is rewarded. Sometimes, you just have to step out onto the ice.