a ~ Smoothed by long fingers

ice fingers


I have no hobbies. I have Things I Love To Do That I Hope One Day Someone Will Pay Me Lots Of Money To Do All the Time.

I discovered this winter, though, that that’s not entirely true. I have one hobby. But I can only do it in the winter because it requires sub freezing temperature. Here’s what I do:

The horses’ grain get mixed with hot water, and it takes a few seconds for the faucet to turn from cold to hot. So that beginning water I let flow into a spare bucket. I leave that water in the bucket to freeze overnight. In the morning, I tip the bucket onto the porch railing and abandon it to the elements. During the day, if there’s sun, the bucket warms enough to drop the ice chunk onto the railing, and that evening, when I need the bucket again to catch the cold water, I lift it up from the railing slowly and carefully and discover art work underneath. Icy artwork. It’s a great hobby.

I’ve been trying to think of a summertime occupation that could take the place of my winter hobby, but I’m failing to find inspiration. Probably I need warm sun, cooling breeze, the buzz of insects and the green lush of the yard to settle my brain into a place conducive for summery ideas.

Until then, I’ll make my ice artwork and try not to wish too hard for the cold to end. My fingers haven’t felt warm in months. My shoulders are developing a permanent hunch against the mean wind. I try, I really do, to appreciate the moment, but for the love of all things crispy it is time for winter to end.

Speaking of crispy, for breakfast today I had chips and salsa stirred together in a bowl and eaten with a spoon. After I got over the initial oddness, it was perfect. A spicy stab of summer in my cold, cold kitchen.

About andi

Writer, editor, wrangler of small boys and dogs.

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