Snowman Bowling
Snow took its time to get here this year, which put all kinds of winter fun on the back-burner. But now that it seems to have arrived, the skiis, sleds and skates came out of the sheds and closets.
Yesterday was one of those days. The once green landscape of a local golf course has become a white desert, laden with deep snow.
The trek to the sliding hill was one fraught with danger ~ slippery surfaces as we walked the sidewalks to the hill. Once on the golf course, our boots sunk into the snow and we trudged along, snow and ice pellets hitting our faces through the biting wind.
Swirling gusts of cold, wet, icy flakes could not keep us at bay though and we persevered to the top of the hill, ready to take on the slope.
And that we did.
Linking arms, the four of us gals, each on our own round sled, wiggled our bottoms till we came to the edge, and then ~ down we went. Hooting and hollering in the descent.
And again, and again.
Then the army came.
The snowman army, that is.
Standing tall, yet small, a row of snowmen formed at the bottom of the hill, challenging brave sledders to attack their front line.
And so the story unfolded in such a way.
Warrior cries resounded on the hilltop and the sledders raced towards the enemy like a bowling ball towards the pins.
The snowmen put up a good fight, as it took a few runs for all of them to fall.
And fall they did.
Sledders won, and basked in the glory of the win. Falling down in the snow at the top of the hill, bodies stretched facing the sky and its cold offerings.
Battle-weary, the sledders soon began their journey to the home base. Again, heavy boots pushed through the white depths. A few stumbled along the way, only to rise with mittens full of snow cupcakes ~ a refreshing treat to ease the longing thirst which battle created.
The abandoned battlefield now lies under another blanket of snow, waiting for the next round of sledders to come and conquer.
Yesterday was one of those days. The once green landscape of a local golf course has become a white desert, laden with deep snow.
The trek to the sliding hill was one fraught with danger ~ slippery surfaces as we walked the sidewalks to the hill. Once on the golf course, our boots sunk into the snow and we trudged along, snow and ice pellets hitting our faces through the biting wind.
Swirling gusts of cold, wet, icy flakes could not keep us at bay though and we persevered to the top of the hill, ready to take on the slope.
And that we did.
Linking arms, the four of us gals, each on our own round sled, wiggled our bottoms till we came to the edge, and then ~ down we went. Hooting and hollering in the descent.
And again, and again.
Then the army came.
The snowman army, that is.
Standing tall, yet small, a row of snowmen formed at the bottom of the hill, challenging brave sledders to attack their front line.
And so the story unfolded in such a way.
Warrior cries resounded on the hilltop and the sledders raced towards the enemy like a bowling ball towards the pins.
The snowmen put up a good fight, as it took a few runs for all of them to fall.
And fall they did.
Sledders won, and basked in the glory of the win. Falling down in the snow at the top of the hill, bodies stretched facing the sky and its cold offerings.
Battle-weary, the sledders soon began their journey to the home base. Again, heavy boots pushed through the white depths. A few stumbled along the way, only to rise with mittens full of snow cupcakes ~ a refreshing treat to ease the longing thirst which battle created.
The abandoned battlefield now lies under another blanket of snow, waiting for the next round of sledders to come and conquer.
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