A couple of weekends ago, hubby and I decided to ignore our household chores so we could go on an Autumn hike. Where we live in Hamilton, Ontario we are blessed with numerous trails and for being known as the Waterfall Capital of the world.
Now I had only seen Buttermilk Falls from the top at Oak-Knoll Park, so it was decided we would walk down the Red Hill Trail through Upper King’s Forest Park, then hike through the forest and stream to reach the falls (there is no trail to follow). At times the walk was quite treacherous, as you are climbing over fallen trees, up hills, down hills, and over plenty of rocks. Overall though the hike was a lot of fun, and once we reached Buttermilk we were able to stand under the falls.
Yesterday we had another snow storm where I live; we received around 24 centimetres of the white stuff. Now we are still in the throngs of winter, so we have to expect snow now and then, but most people have been used to us having very mild winters, so when the snow comes again and again, most are not happy. I on the other hand, love the white stuff and always have.
When I was little, I remember my mother teaching us to ice skate. My father would drive us to the outdoor rink, and because there were three of us all under the age of five, we needed props. I clearly remember holding and pushing a chair around the ice. When my husband and I taught our three children to skate we didn’t use props, so there were a lot of sore bums, but all three did eventually learn. We are quite lucky where I live, there are many outdoor rinks maintained by volunteers, plus there is Cootes Paradise, adjacent to the bay, just remember to bring a shovel.
Nowadays though, I can no longer go skating or shovel due to health problems, and we have a lot of shoveling for our corner lot. I like to try, but always get yelled at by either my husband or children to stop. Thus I have to think of other ways to amuse myself when it comes to appreciating the snow. Last year, after one particularly bad snow storm, there was a lot of the white fluffy stuff in the yard, so I did what every little child loves to do. I purposely fell backwards and made a snow angel. It didn’t matter that I was no longer young, I was still young at heart. Laying there in the snow felt wonderful as I moved my arms and legs back and forth. I didn’t feel the cold, I felt each snowflake and thought of when I was a child, then a parent teaching my own children how to make the angel. Listening to their laughter as they each tried to get up and not damage the angel. Once I felt satisfied my design, I then had to figure out how to get up myself. I didn’t consider that no one else was home at the time to lend me a hand. Eventually though I was able to rise up but my snow angel, well, you tell me: