Lately I've been spending untold hours in a frozen netherworld at the back of my back yard, preoccupied with boards, tarps, slope, snow, pipes, hoses, leaks, and, of course, weather. All this to provide my progeny with a 20' x 20' sheet of the slippery stuff to play our game on. More ice in my yard than in my drink, lately. But as I stood out there tonight in the -10 night air, my fingers frozen around the hose, swirls of snow gusting off the neighbours' garage roof and hissing gently into the 1/4" of water freezing before my eyes on my ice pad, I felt a special kind of winter peace enveloping everything out there, including me. Tomorrow the rink will echo with the slap-boom of the puck off the stick then off the boards, the grind & crunch of blades digging up the ice, and the clang of the red metal goalposts stopping some object's flight--but tonight it was all slow, quiet preparation. And a few snow-cooled Creemore to lubricate the process.
Showing posts with label ice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ice. Show all posts
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Do Backyard Rinks have Drink?
Well, they might. Something about the process of creating and maintaining them does, anyway.
Lately I've been spending untold hours in a frozen netherworld at the back of my back yard, preoccupied with boards, tarps, slope, snow, pipes, hoses, leaks, and, of course, weather. All this to provide my progeny with a 20' x 20' sheet of the slippery stuff to play our game on. More ice in my yard than in my drink, lately. But as I stood out there tonight in the -10 night air, my fingers frozen around the hose, swirls of snow gusting off the neighbours' garage roof and hissing gently into the 1/4" of water freezing before my eyes on my ice pad, I felt a special kind of winter peace enveloping everything out there, including me. Tomorrow the rink will echo with the slap-boom of the puck off the stick then off the boards, the grind & crunch of blades digging up the ice, and the clang of the red metal goalposts stopping some object's flight--but tonight it was all slow, quiet preparation. And a few snow-cooled Creemore to lubricate the process.
Lately I've been spending untold hours in a frozen netherworld at the back of my back yard, preoccupied with boards, tarps, slope, snow, pipes, hoses, leaks, and, of course, weather. All this to provide my progeny with a 20' x 20' sheet of the slippery stuff to play our game on. More ice in my yard than in my drink, lately. But as I stood out there tonight in the -10 night air, my fingers frozen around the hose, swirls of snow gusting off the neighbours' garage roof and hissing gently into the 1/4" of water freezing before my eyes on my ice pad, I felt a special kind of winter peace enveloping everything out there, including me. Tomorrow the rink will echo with the slap-boom of the puck off the stick then off the boards, the grind & crunch of blades digging up the ice, and the clang of the red metal goalposts stopping some object's flight--but tonight it was all slow, quiet preparation. And a few snow-cooled Creemore to lubricate the process.
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