A Chilly Read For Summer

The Igloo: Part One

            Three days after I played tennis in shorts and a t-shirt, school was canceled for the beginning of one of the worst snowstorms I've ever seen. From Tuesday to Friday, I spent my glorious free time relaxing. I read books, worked on a short story, practiced piano, and looked out the window at the steadily falling snow. A few times, I and my younger sister and brother ventured outside to enjoy the frosted scenery, the close feeling of a snow-laden world, and the slippery patches of ice on the road that had brought our sudden winter vacation.


         Fun as it was, sledding on gripless boots down a steep hill gave me a fair share of bumps and bruises (I still have one on my knee), so on Saturday we decided on the safer activity of building a snowman in a field at the end of our street. The snow was the perfect stickiness. Our snowman smiled at the world with his licorice eyes and pebble smile.

            We thought about having a snow-creature art contest, but instead one of us said, “Let’s try building an igloo like Papa made when he was small.” So we did. Between the three of us, a turquoise bucket, and a matching shovel, we laid a solid foundation for it. It took us until nearly dark to add another twenty rectangular blocks of packed snow for the second layer.

            Sunday after church, we got back to work. Our shouts of “double-time!” as we shoveled, shuttled, and shaved snow made it more exciting but did little to actually speed us up. Again, we worked until the sun disappeared and there was only a little smudge of pink on the horizon. The igloo now stood hip-high and was beginning to take shape.

To be continued...