I fell through the ice

The weather has been up and down lately, cold, warm, snow, rain, etc., you really never know what to wear when you leave the house. However this past Tuesday, the weather was warm enough that I decided to wear my running shoes to the dog park. Now when I say warm enough, I mean around 1° Celsius, 34° Fahrenheit for my American followers, Canadians will leave the hat and mittens at home, put on the running shoes instead of winter boots, and leave our coat zipper down. The ground was still frozen, so I wasn’t worried about muddy shoes or paws.

The dogs were running here and there, well Cocoa was mostly walking beside me, until he would see another dog that he decided was a threat to Bear. Cocoa is Bear’s bodyguard, which is quite funny, being that Cocoa is half the size of him, and certainly cannot run anywhere near as fast as Bear can. Cocoa also doesn’t really understand Bear play fighting with other dogs, he thinks Bear is being hurt, so he is right there to defend him.

We rarely take more than two walks around the entire dog park because of Cocoa’s arthritis, and of course mine. Lately we haven’t been doing the usual circle because this leash free dog park is prone to flooding, so there is a lot of water on the ground after the snow melts. Then of course the ground freezes again, leaving ice everywhere. On this particular day, I saw the dogs running across the ice so I figured it would hold me too. Ha! (Afterthought: the combined weight of Bear and Cocoa is less than what I weigh).

I put my one foot on the ice, it holds, I put my other foot on the ice, and then I start to hear the cracks. (Now before I scare the heck out of my readers, this is a very, very small creek that I am crossing, most could run and hop over it, but I can’t; it is also only a foot or so deep). My right foot falls through the ice, seconds later left goes under. My right is wet up to the middle of my shin, whereas the left is only wet up to my ankle. I easily pull my right up out of the ice, but my left is more difficult. The ice is broken like shards of glass, and they are poking into my ankle. Thankfully my thick sock and jeans are protecting my ankle from being cut. I finally get my foot out of the water, but both my feet are now frozen solid. The walk is over, and I’m off home to warm up.

Note to self: next time remember the dogs are lighter than I.

Winter storms and snow angels

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:
snow angel