The pine trees stand tall and firm on the hillside, silent sentries to the children’s fun. Their needles shake in the wind as the children’s laughter echoes off the hills. The children rush towards one particular hill, probably the largest one, dragging their sleds behind them. Two get to the top first and jump into their sled, ready to go down.
The lake is frozen and thick, silent and still at first, but is soon interrupted by the shouts of children, skates slung over their shoulders. They take off their boots and put on the skates at the lake’s edge, the first ones gliding off towards the middle. The older ones hold the hands of the younger ones to steady them as they take a turn around the lake.
The rooftops are sprinkled with snow, the rest of the snow piled high around the houses. Children have built a couple of forts in their backyard and have begun building up their ammunition. Snowball upon snowball are stacked at key points around each fort, the children giggling as they take sides. Soon they are ready, and the first snowball is about to be thrown.
Each scene may be different, but each has something similar. Turn their world upside-down, shake it up, and place the globe back down so the snow may begin anew, the glitter falling slowly through the watery sky. The snow will settle, ready for another turn, another shake to get the flakes falling, when the children will play all over again.
By Aurora Mandeville