“Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow”, but save a dream of winter for me. Bright blue clear skies with clouds brushed away by strong breezes, take my breath on a morning walk. Old skates now jostling over my well padded shoulder blades from layered sweaters and heavy coat, have been sharpened to dangerous blades. A shovel in my mittened hand, always ready to make short work of the frozen pond’s skiff from previous night’s snow, and I pause to take it in. An every day adventure; a simple, solitary respite inside a busy day of household chores. Scraping sounds of the spade pierce the pristine surroundings, and scatter a few crows previously resting silently on icy branches. I don the skates, secure long laces with bared hands, suddenly stiff from exposure. Then, awaited bliss as I begin to glide.