We always go on an outdoor adventure together at least one day on the weekends. That's our routine, like a glue that keeps us tightly joined. It was 23 degrees when we walked out the door this morning ( a much better alternative than staying inside with cabin fever percolating.) Since we don't have ice skates, and there's not much snow left, well then, fishing it is. We walked, wrapped like polypropylene mummies, to the pond.
The tedious process of cutting through the ice extracted a hunk that was around 6 inches thick. This was deemed safe and we proceeded to make the surface of the pond our playground.
Ta da!!!! An ice fishing hole. Initially, there was so much excitement around this hole and the possibility of catching a fish. We sat, we watched. No fish. The kids and I have an adventurous attention span. We were not the most loyal fisher persons.
Before long it was just daddy by himself while the kids and I walked all over water.
(Now, I recognize this is no big deal to my Canadian friends, but for those of us who have grown up in the southeastern United States.... a month of below freezing temps is just not reality. Honestly, I still can't wrap my brain around it. The rhythm of my days is seriously warped.)
I found myself wandering around, looking for images to capture. The kids were in bliss discovering things beneath the ice. Often I looked up to find them nose to the ice, oblivious to any discomfort. It was a brand new way for them to experience the pond that they know so well.
A lovely way to spend the morning, if I do say so myself (and I'm not much of a cold weather person.) We will always remember this day that we cavorted on the water of our pond. "Magic" is what I heard our daughter say to our son. In our own little world, we made history today. We walked, ran, slide, and fished on water. It will be entered into one of our family chapters... "Remember that winter when it was so cold, for so long, that we...."