The young child skating feels the cold on her face and fingertips. Her ankles are strong and seldom tire. The pine trees are fragrant, and set against a blue sky. The ice is bumpy and littered with snow. She’ll skate for an hour with the sun blinding her movements. She’s not afraid to fall. When her toes begin to chill, she knows to walk home before her feet lose feeling. That is all that she is thinking.
The old red shop has been transformed. What used to be a holding place for the lawn chairs is a chic place to chill. Warmed with a couple of space heaters last night, we played a few tunes on the guitar. My brother and I play together once a year, so we really wing it. I do my best on a second steel string in the house. (I’m more of a nylon string, finger picking girl.)
At about 50 degrees, I didn’t last long. Loved the space and tossing back some beer added to the ambience. Walking back to the house with my Mom and Dad in the dark reminded me of how quiet and dark this Northeastern Connecticut area is. It would take time to readjust to life here.
Sitting on a large rock, the young girl felt its warmth in the middle of winter. Snow-tipped juniper bushes touched the cottony snow mounds. Grey branches rose high above her head. The small berries on the juniper tree were visible. Soon, the girl found it irresistible to jump with wild abandon in the juniper bushes laying low to the ground. She was careful not to break the boughs. I think she was ten years of age.