Ice is everywhere

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

There is nothing quite like a sip of cool water on a hot summer day. The sound of ice cubes clinking against the side of my glass even adds to my escape from summer's heat.

This time of year, though, I am more inclined to sip a hot cup of tea in the afternoon. The cup warms my hands while the liquid warms my insides. While there are no clinking ice cubes in my wintertime tea, just outside the cabin’s window, ice is everywhere.

The paths we first made through the snow are still there, though our footsteps and the sunshine have somehow worked together to turn them into slick trails of ice. Stepping on them would be courting certain disaster, so yes, I have finally strayed from the beaten path. No need to fall. Even though I am wrapped in my quilted coveralls, I have no desire to test the efficacy of their padding. Best to avoid the potential peril.

The driveway that leads up the hill from the lower fields to the cabin is definitely in cahoots with the pathways. It has turned into more of an ice way that a driveway. The ice is easily several inches thick. Even with four-wheel drive, and all four wheels in track-lock mode, climbing the hill is iffy, and several downhill ventures have resulted in breath catching skids. Fortunately, no harm has resulted, other than our temporarily elevated heart rates. Every trip up and down, in either our jeep or our four-wheel drive green machine, is a perilous adventure.

Then, down along the creek, the slow water pools are now covered with thick ice, shore to shore. I know that the current still flows past under the ice. Occasionally I can see a branch slowly passing by under a patch of clear ice. The water flows fast, however, across the waterfalls and along the swift current bends. There the ice has formed into frothy low-lying statues, but even though the ice laden creek is both fascinating and beautiful, we hesitate to linger beside. We're fearful that our puppy dog would bound across it, unaware of potential peril, and fall through into the frigid water. Just as we have no desire to crash to the ground on the ice paths, or crash into one of our barns at the bottom of the driveway, we also have no desire to crash through the ice to rescue our dear dog.

Several years ago, when we went for a winter walk along the creek, our large female Rottweiler fell through the ice. Our male rushed to her aid, and was on the verge of breaking through and falling in. 

Thankfully, the water was not deep or fast, and our female, though struggling, was able to keep her head above the water. Greg scrambled down the bank as I called the male to my side. Greg was able to break through the ice and make his way through the frigid water over to our dog. He grabbed her collar and dragged her back to shore, out of the water, and up the bank. We all hurried up the hill to the cabin. With grateful tears, I dried off both my freezing husband and dog. I have never felt so thankful for the wood stove's heat.

Yes, I am thankful for that glass of ice water in the summer, but this once-upon-a-time city dweller has gained a new respect for the ice that comes to our wintertime valley. I appreciate its beauty, but I am also wary of its peril. With understanding, I have learned to live cautiously with the winter ice as I look forward to its fading away into springtime grass. I can hardly wait!

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.