Earlier, I admitted to being a Weather Wimp. However, I may have been too quick to cast judgment. Give me some sun, snow I can clear away from the ice, and less than gale force winds, and suddenly things aren't so bad. Finally, for the first time this winter, we were able to clear off a decent section of ice and go skating on the lake near our house.
Purists may take issue with what we created. It is not your typical hockey rink style. There is a squarish area but this leads to several twisting, curving paths which sprout like messed up tentacles from the main body.
Sylvia and Mitchell love the haphazard rink. They can play hockey in the traditional zone but can do so much more in the maze.
"I can practice my cross-cuts," Sylvia said. "And it's great for tag!"
To be honest, the end result is not a product of any forethought. Lydia and I don't map out or plan what we do - it's pretty much a metaphor of how we've always lived our life. It looks like a disaster to the casual observer, but it's oh so much fun!
We begin with simple straight lines, making your average rink. Then, as time goes on, we get bored and start going outside the lines. We diverge and break away from the boxy design. A fresh path is cut into the snow, veering at an acute angle away from the square before looping and heading in a completely new direction.
I cut the lawn in the same fashion. Always have done. A habit which used to drive my parent's nuts. They wanted perfectly straight lines and I went wherever the mood took me. Occasionally, this took me over the power cord, proving that I must have a Guardian Angel since I'm still here.
Lydia is the same. We joke that we suffer from a form of ADHD called "Shiny". Our attention is easily drawn away by anything that catches our eye. Lydia and I are like magpies. We're great at starting stuff but the lure of something new always leads us off-course. Later, a nagging sensation informs us that we've forgotten something, but by then we can't remember what it was.
There isn't a day that goes by where one of us doesn't stop in mid-step, a quizzical look fixed in place, and ask, "What was I doing?"
Fortunately one of us usually knows the answer.
"Shiny?" Lydia will ask. Then she'll tell me what I had been doing pre-distraction. It's amazing that anything gets completed.
Now where was I? Right, the rink. No matter how it begins, it always ends up as a testament to our inability to remain focused. Halifax may have the Oval but we have the Sackville Shiny.
Kevin Toal is a freelance writer who is far too easily distrac....