A winter wonderland....
Twenty somethings are often in need of extended sleep at the weekend, especially those who spend their weekdays teaching First Graders. Or so I thought, many years ago, while living at home again with my parents. Therefore, I was not amused when my Dad knocked repeatedly on my bedroom door one Sunday's winter morning, before the sun had even begun to rise.
"What on earth?" I thought. He quickly enlightened me, stating that there had been an ice storm during the night which had coated our part of the world in ice as thick as my fingers. He wanted me to dress quickly and head out in the car with he and my mother to view the spectacle before the sun rose too high and melted it all.
Seriously, Dad?
Reluctantly, I dressed and met my parents in the kitchen. I am forever grateful I did.
The scene we encountered around us was nothing short of spectacular.
Carefully inching the car along the winding roads of nearby towns, we witnessed the most beautiful show nature can produce. My Dad's timing was perfect - the sun's rays illuminating the crystals of the icicles which hung virtually everywhere we looked. The only sounds were that of the tires crunching on the icy roads and our gasps of delight.
A treasured memory with my parents I often recall and worth being awakened before dawn for.
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