The Half Acre Pond

Winter Joy

There’s the alpha and the omega, the ying and the yang, the good versus evil. It seems to me in nature and in life there always two extremes. In Frost’s world, it is the road less traveled. In the world of Star Wars, there is the light-side and the dark-side. Tolkien’s Middle Earth is similarly paired with beautiful wood elves and man in one realm and distorted creatures and evil in another. In the old cowboy movies, when the man in white rode in on his trusty steed, you knew he’d come to save the innocent. Within these boundaries of extremes, you find where you belong.

In like manner, there is summer; there is winter. How many languish in the summer, dreading the cold, dead winter? After almost three decades of Southeast weather, I find myself in the reputed January of Minnesota. Brrrr. I grew up in northern Wisconsion, but let’s be honest, that was when I was a kid. Now my bones feel the biting prairie wind. My broken-since-13 nose immediately reminds me of the defective circulation at its very tip. The shoulders groan as I struggle to stick my arms into yet another layer of protection across my torso: the undershirt, the t-shirt, the sweatshirt, the down vest (at least 3 are required as options for any Minnesotan’s wardrobe), and finally the outer jacket. Oi! Those layers! but worth every effort when you walk outside your door in anticipation of time with nature in Minnesota January.

I’ve chosen to embrace the winter. It’s the underdog, the antihero, the dynamic plot twist that adds flavor in my new life’s story. I might as well embrace it; it’s going to last 6 months!

So when my friend spoke about how he occasionally skates on his half acre pond, the child within me woke up and clapped with glee. To be honest, I think the adult version of me mimicked the gesture.

“Wait, you ice skate on your pond? You don’t have to go to an ice rink in the middle of suburban Atlanta where you pay a small fortune for the pleasure of renting smelly skates and maneuvering around the population on ice as a 9-year old performs a double axle around you?” (She shoots a glare of valley-girl “exCUSE me” as she has to cut short her dismount because you’re in the way.)

I ask with baited anticipation, “Do you think I could skate, too?”

I don’t think he was aware of the door he had unlocked with that simple, “sure.”

First, I had to find skates that I didn’t need a mortgage to purchase and be my size. As a woman whose body physiology is perhaps a blend of Amazon and Sasquatch, that meant I was to find, once again, men’s skates. They don’t fit right and my arthritic and neuropathy-ridden abused feet require their payment in punishment for such adventures, but I don’t care; it’s worth it.

Next, we needed the pond to freeze. I was like the kid in the back seat on her first trip to Disneyworld.

“Are we there yet?”

“No, silly, we’re still in the driveway.”

At first frost, I had to text, even though I knew the answer,

“Can I skate yet?”

“No, silly, it’s still fall.”

So I practiced my patience until the first few days of continued temperatures below freezing. I heard the the magical words like a choir of angels singing from above,

“There’s a solid 10 inches on the pond.”

Oh joy! But life intervenes and I missed my first opportunity. Patience. More. Patience.

Then came “Indian summer.” I’m not sure if it was technically an Indian summer (when the weather warms again and sometimes even the trees are fooled thinking winter is over—duh! it was only a week), but I do know that my ice became slush just in time for the weekend.

“Sorry, no skating this weekend.” Rats.

“That’s ok,” I told myself, “I’m practicing patience, remember?”

Then IT arrived. Winter. Wow! Temperatures that never reach above freezing the entire day. And not just one day: day after day. Even better—it didn’t SNOW and no WIND! That meant a half acre of GLASS!

It was the best possible conditions for outdoor skating: smooth ice (except, of course for the deer tracks frozen in the ice as they crossed the slush pond, which serve as booby traps to my balancing act on 1/4” blades).

I could barely believe my luck. I hadn’t skated on a pond in over 40 years. It was a perfect gift. Usually, the ice freezes during a tumultuous storm of wind and snow and it’s like there are barbs frozen for the season all over the ice. You resign yourself that you won’t be doing any speed skating and you absolutely will fall and crash down on whichever body part gravity selects as its next victim. Eventually, you decide you have had all the “fun” you can stand for the day and limp home with a silly smile on your face.

If you are fortunate that the ice was relatively smooth, there’s the snow to deal with! You’ve got to clear the snow. Always! This past week I was driving down some country roads and noticed shovels on edge of the ever-present Minnesota field and ditch ponds. Memories of my childhood smiled at these shovels resting in anticipation of this generation’s youth alighting from their school busses and rushing out to clear some more ice for another round of play. It was hard to believe that this winter, I was one of them.

My bus is my mom’s subaru and my field pond is half an acre! There is no way I’m shoveling that 22,780 square feet! Before I can lace up my man-skates and begin my joy, I grabbed my shovel and cleared a lap, stepping carefully with my sneakers and electing to avoid clearing the deer crossing traps which are sinisterly-sneaky when covered in snow. Once a basic pattern was formed, I grabbed my skates, jammed the shovel handle in my abdomen to push the snow while skating and multi-tasked both work and play. I wasn’t exactly whistling-while-working to clear more snow, but it was exhilarating! I was on the ice again! It felt like home! What a dream! That is, of course, until I was gut-punched by the handle because it was caught in one of those deer track booby-traps. If you’ve ever shoveled snow like this, you know exactly how it feels. But no matter; it’s all part of the ying and yang.

With the shovel abandoned, I pushed off onto the icy glass and into bliss. There it was: Joy. Sheer. Joy. Without doubt, my focus remained on staying erect; it had been 40 years, afterall. However, with a little time to remind my body how it all worked, my mind was able to wander and just feel the crisp air, hear the "squinch…squinch” of my blades, and see all the wonder of winter’s frozen painting. There was a fossilized imprint of an oak leaf, dusted by the powdery snow to remind the world of its brief existence. There was a crawfish frozen in place at the top of the ice. I’m glad to see that, if Darwin is right, we won’t have to worry about its DNA deciding the future of its species. I noted no less than four different types of animal track imprints, waiting to inevitably catch me daydreaming and literally “trip me up.” As the wind picked up, the hibernating grass would wave to me like spectators at a parade. I gleefully waved back with my best Miss America wave. What a first skate!

Then, tragedy struck: it SNOWED! I just shoveled that ice! Normally, I’d embrace the light powdery precipitation that sprinkles the landscape all day like a Currier and Ives Christmas card, but not now! I just shoveled! And the snow continued! By the time it was over, there was a solid 3 inches blanketing the ice just in time for another weekend.

However, even with this setback, there was joy. There’s a quiet in winter that’s hard to explain if you’ve never experienced it…especially when there is snow on the ground. It’s like the noise cancelling feature on expensive headphones. The quiet is like a blanket of contentment. It’s not silence; that’s harsh. It’s quiet; it’s welcomed. Occasionally nature interrupts its meditation with the caw of a crow or the oaks and maples announcing the next gust of prairie wind.

I tried to make the best of the situation. I brought my waterproof pants to the pond so I could lie in my snow angel and listen to the silence. Nice plan, except for the golden lab, Rosie, that owns the pond. If you are at ground level, you are on her territory and you must play. She was much more fun than lying in the snow with the cold relentlessly creeping into my joints. Once finished with the obligatory playtime, that same sweetie tucked herself under my arm in a dog hug and remained. She simply stared out to the pond, claiming me as her own. If I try to move, put my skates on or get up, she’s quick to remedy the situation, assuring that my arm is once more wrapped around her body and I’m back in my “proper place.” I don’t know how long she’d stay there. I’m usually the one that cries “uncle.” Afterall, there’s a half acre of ice to caress.

I enjoy the lyrics of songwriter Benjamin William Hastings. In his song, “Seasons” he writes, “Oh how nature acquaints us with the nature of patience.” Amen to that. I was going to have to be patient. Perhaps I could squeak out another path, just wide enough to skate and maybe get a few minutes of skating in before the weekend was over. I wasn’t hopeful. I basically resigned myself that a couple of skates this winter was wonderful enough. However, God and man can do great things together.

When I arrived to the pond, the glory of the entire half acre of ice had been cleared by my friend. Mouth agape and fingers and toes twitching, I longed to race out there and play. But I’m not a kid anymore; I’m an adult. I don’t like the butchered noun-turned-verb “adulting,” but it sprang into my consciousness when I realized I had “miles to go before I could sleep” (or skate, as it were). More patience. Three hours later, a birthday pie and chili lessons finished, it was finally time! I had to hurry because the sun was getting low in the sky.

God’s timing, God’s gift. Had I run out there as soon as I had arrived, I would have missed the beauty of skating at sunset. While others curse the cold and frost, I turned to the west and enjoyed the beauty of a sundog, a rainbow of color 22 degrees on each side of the sun. Just as the sun kissed the horizon, a sun pillar shot up vertically and there was a trinity of light that signaled the end of the day. Simply spectacular.

Recognizing that I probably couldn’t top that and my phone taught me that just as it can’t tolerate the Georgia heat in the summer, it likewise will shut down when you keep it in your outside pocket during Minnesota winter. Time to wrestle with the lab so I could remove my skates and head back into the wood-heated home.

The dark began triumphing over day and I looked to the eastern sky.

There, just above the roof top and tips of the barren winter trees, the full moon smiled hello.

No matter your circumstance, find your half acre pond.

God’s blessings and good wanderings.