When The Snow Melts

when the snow melts

Wolf, as a good and proper Canadian Dad, built the Minions an ice rink in our yard this year.

First year, ever.

We’ve never had a yard large enough for it before, and last year he tried putting it in a different spot, and it didn’t work out so well. Or something like that. I dimly remember him mumbling about ice rinks and talking about flattening out a spot or something, but honestly? When it comes to stuff in the yard, he could be describing animal sacrifices, and I wouldn’t notice until I smelled something. Or there was a lot of noise. “Out of the house, not my dominion.” is pretty much my motto.Β Especially in the winter. And in this house. I mean, I’ve already proven that winter and this house are dangerous to my health. First, the porch roof vomited on my head, and then icicles were hissing homicidal threats at me.

And, let’s be honest here: Imp isn’t the most graceful creature on the planet. Give me a flat, dry surface, and I’ll find a way to trip over my own feet and be snorting concrete. So, the idea of adding ICE to my landscape? As in, onΒ purpose? So not my gig.

I could blame it on the RSD, but the reality of it is, I have a scar on my pinky finger from the last time someone tried to teach me to skate. Wobbling around with blades on my shoes? Nope. I’m also not a downhill skier. Strips of fiberglass on my boots, pointy sticks in hand, hurtling down the side of the mountain…sounds like something I’d end up explaining to the paramedics, or appear in a news report of how a woman managed to need surgery to remove her shin from her forehead, not a sport.

The Minions, however, LOVE this stuff. Downhill skiing, skating, they’re all for it. Through the grace of God, they’ve inherited Wolf’s physical coordination, and nobody’s broken anything or needed stitches. Except for Cubby, and that was an unfortunate fridge incident, involving Diva’s feet. (Frankly, I’m worried he might be the one to take after me).

So, the rink was built, and Princess was the one out there several times a day, calling, “Look at me!” as she learned to turn and stop. Ok, the stopping still needs some work, but she was loving it.

Unfortunately, we’ve had several days of rain and warmer temps. The ice rink is giving a whole new meaning to the term, ‘pond hockey’.

What happens when the snow melts, and the ice rink isn’t so icy any more?

Well, if you’re Princess, you drag out your sled, grab a couple of boards, and go paddling.

It occurred to me that that’s not a bad analogy for life, really.

Things change without warning. The trick is to roll with it, and find a way to enjoy what you have, rather than missing what you don’t.

Paddle on, friends. Paddle on.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Mommy Blogs. A Ranked & Rated Directory Of The Most Popular Mom Blogs


When The Snow Melts — 10 Comments

  1. I like the ephemerality of the ice rink as a metaphor for life. Maybe that’s because I like cool metaphors, or maybe it’s because I’m a better swimmer than skater, skier, gymnast, pogo stick jumper, or tightrope walker. Douglas Adams said that flying is very simple: you just jump and avoid hitting the ground. Personally I’ve never found a loophole in the law of gravity. I was headed to a point here, but I seem to have taken a wrong turn. I think I’ve been, metaphorically, skating on your ice rink, and now I hear cracking.

  2. I’m dreading the day my youngest can no longer be persuaded to sit in a pushchair. It’s the only thing that stops me from falling over when it’s slippery outside! Ice renders even walking a dangerous activity that I want no part in πŸ™‚

    • I don’t know which I’d have preferred, the warmer temps that meant 3-4 days of rain, or if it had been snow. At least in the snow, the kids can go outside. Them being stuck in the house for days on end…not a good thing, at least for my sanity!

  3. As a native California snow isn’t something I have spent much time with and frankly I am good with that. Don’t know I could deal with it on anything but an occasional visit.

    • Unfortunately, as a Canadian, there’s no escaping it. Apparently, Vancouver doesn’t get too much, but exchanging snow for days on end of rain…yeah, not my idea of fun either. Blech. I’d grow mould.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *