“Look at this big crack!”, I said to the boys. It extended clear across the pond. “Never come down here without a big person,” I admonished, many times. We scribed out a Fox and Geese pattern while David plowed off a hockey rink. In our attic is a pile of skates, size small, double runner, on up to man’s twelve. All visitors are outfitted, and we slide down the field behind the barn. Such cold fingers, putting on all the children’s skates. We often build a bonfire, right out on the ice! When I was little, Dad said it had been so cold that he could plow the snow off the pond with the bulldozer. How the water and ice churned up as he backed off!