It was a crisp, cold, white morning. The snow
glistened from the sun, but the air was still
chilling to the bone. There was at least two feet
of snow on the ground with a thick layer of ice on
top. If there hadn't already been a well-trodden
path to the pond, I would have broke through
because the ice was not quite thick enough to
hold me.
As I went out the door, I asked my black Labrador
Retriever, Jemma, if she wanted to go for a walk.
Her gleeful jumps and running in circles around me
suggested that she would be delighted to join me
on such a lovely day for a walk to her favorite
place. We began, Jemma bounding happily ahead.
My jacket was heavy, but not thick or very warm.
A red sweater and a tee-shirt beneath that covered
my upper body except my face, head and hands. I
didn't have on a hat or gloves. I didn't know how
bitter the weather was when I headed out the door.
It didn't seem too bad at first. My five-year-old
boots became heavy and damp as soon as a few inches
of snow fell into the ankle high heel. I knew that
would happen although I had two pairs of socks on.
I had on a pair of jeans, but they were light, not
thick.
When I got to the pond, I kept on towards the store.
Jemma became excited; allowed to run on the pond.
My hands were already red and cold. They felt as
stiff as starch.
I was just as excited as Jem. I
noticed snow had frozen to her chin. She looked as
though she had a goatee. She had not hesitated for
a second when I had asked if she wanted to come
along. But dogs don't know better. I immediately
took my hands and put them around her mouth to melt
the ice that hung from her fur. After a minute we
were on our way once more.
The wind picked up, blowing the snow-covered trees
on the shoreline. It increased rather quickly until
the whole pond looked like a white sand storm in a
desert. It was incredible. I wish I had taken my
camera with me, except the below zero temperature
and major wind chill would probably cause it to not
work. I kept my hands in my jacket and often
clenched my fists to make sure they weren't
completely numb. I often stopped to take my jacket
off, sit half on it and make Jemma lay on the jacket
any way she could to warm up her paws. It seemed to
help some. I did this whenever she showed any
irritation or limped.
Half-way there, a man on a snowmobile stopped next
to Jemma and I to ask if I was crazy. That's funny.
I said I was. He told me if he saw me out there much
longer he would take me home. Do you think I would
get on a snowmobile with a strange man in a mask?
No way. When I got to the road that went up to the
store, Jemma and I left the pond. Jemma kept looking
the way we had come as if it were time to go back.
I assured her we would be there soon. She hesitantly
followed. A few minutes later we were at the store.
Since my mom was working, she called my dad to come
pick us up. The walk took two hours, when in the
summer it takes only approximately one hour from
our house to the store on Route 201, also known as
Brunswick Road.
At home, I sat by the woodstove with my boots off,
after changing into different clothes. It took about
a half hour before I could feel any part of my legs
at all. They were numb, red, frozen. Jemma slept by
it, stealing most of the room from me, snoring.
But for the most part we had a good time and were
both exhausted.
