Tag Archives: Ice Lanterns

Farewell, Kerry Farm Ice Rink

It’s the beginning of March, and the feel of spring is in the air.

Secret Wish: I am holding out for a blizzard or two, as we need  more moisture in Southeastern Saskatchewan.

Just before we move into spring, I will share these photos of the grasses, leaves of Grandmother Willow and that noxious weed, Baby’s Breath, as they are found in around the Kerry Farm Ice Rink, and inside the ice of some lanterns (now melted). I love them all. I love how their forms are expressed in ice, that temporal art form.

Canary Reed Grass in ice lantern

Canary Reed Grass

Although canary reed grass is an invasive species, I love her form, especially in winter against the whites and blue and purple shades of the snow.

Willow leaves on ice


Willow leaves in ice. Lantern mold is an ice cream pail.

Willow leaves in ice lantern, bottom view

Grandmother willow

Baby’s Breath in ice and growing nearby in snow

Winter Soul#3 – Building with Snow

My memories of building snow forts as a child have to do with enormous piles of snow. Were  my childhood winters snowier than my adult winters? It would seem so. Even so, I remember a snow-filled Saskatchewan winter (1998?) when my young children and I were completely absorbed building a snow fort on the 5 meter high snow mountain created by our makeshift snow plow. This fort had stairs and rooms, stained glass windows (frozen blocks of ice with food colouring), thrones, tables, and a flag. The fort consumed our energy for days on end. A few years later, my kids were too old to have their mum build snow forts with them, but I remember the happy times they had with friends creating caves and tunnels in big snow drifts around the farm.

Since having an ice rink, I have returned to building with snow, usually in later winter when snow drifts form, and can be sliced just so with a shovel . At a recent winter PLAYshop (A WInter’s Day at Kerry Farm), my inspiring friend, Barbara Mader, built a small igloo like structure – too small for a person or a big dog, and with no door to get in. It is meant to be lit inside and you can see the beautiful results in the photos. I am always inspired by Barbara’s love of playing with snow – creating unlikely and narrow winding paths, walls for no (apparent) reason, or beautiful designs.

While Barbara was shovelling, I was hollowing out a part of a curved snow drift thinking it would be an inviting spot to crawl into when the world (the news!) got to be a little too much. A few days later, along came my art buddy Emora who loved my little cave, but really thought it should be a tunnel. Ten days later it became a wonderful curved tunnel with different views from either end.

I loved digging inside that tunnel. It was quieter than quiet in there. It was warm. It smelled like snow.  The wind howled outside but all was still within. Carving away at the sides and roof of the tunnel reveals different kinds and qualities of snow – sedimentary bands of tightly packed crystals, icy pockets, maple syrup season snow (big hard granules), and snow soft as soft can be. A white, bluey, purple, gray cave. It was like crawling right into the heart of winter and resting a while. Part of me wishes I had left it a cave, but there is something compelling about finally breaking through to that light at the end of the tunnel! For my efforts, I received great joy and delight as well as the sorest abdominal  muscles I have ever had – digging and carving  while on your stomach or back is more of a workout than I would have guessed.

If the forecast is right, tomorrow I welcome more snow, which we desperately need in drought stricken Eastern Saskatchewan. I also welcome snow because when the North wind blows (as it surely will), more drifts will be created, and curved blocks of snow are cut easily from drifts where they make their own lovely shape. It is so fun to slide your shovel into a drift and see which way a  crack forms and what shape your next piece of snow will be.

Barbara Mader, with her slick shovel, creating a secret path, 2020

 

Barbara Mader’s beautiful snow structure lit from within by “Larry’s Lantern”

 

 

From afar

Close up

Outside view of tunnel, Kerry Farm Ice Rink 2020

Feet first

The other side

Curved blocks of snow cut from drifts

Ice Lantern and snow design by Barbara Mader

Mystery creature

from 2013 when the drifts were THIS high

A Day on the Ice Rink

the day began with sun dogs

the day began with sun dogs

the snow pieces from the drifts are beautiful

the snow pieces from the drifts are beautiful

Herc looking through a window

Herc looking through a window

Snowblower!

Snowblower!

Snowblower stops!!

Snowblower stops!!

Debra, intrepid shoveler!!!

Debra, intrepid shoveler!!!

Breaking through the drifts

Breaking through the drifts

me with ice lanterns

me with ice lanterns

the beginning of a heart

the beginning of a heart

moon rising, almost full

moon rising, almost full

Herc and Lady, our faithful buddies

Herc and Lady, our faithful buddies

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Debra’s rainbow lantern

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“Everyday is a good day as long as we adjust ourselves to the day.” (Unknown)

Having an ice rink has transformed my relationship with winter. I have a friendlier relationship now. Rarely a day passes when I do not go out to the rink. I love to watch the sun rise and set from the rink. This week, the moon almost full, has been spectacular. It’s something like tending a garden…. those of you who grow vegetables or flowers check it daily or sometimes several times daily. The garden, like the ice rink, is where we take stock of the day, of its moods and weather, of the small changes, of the animal tracks or signs.

The ice rink feels like a collaboration with Mother Nature, and she is firmly in charge. I respond. How will the ice freeze? Pebbly or smooth? How much snow will fall? The prevalent wind in these parts is the North Wind, and while the wind creates amazing drifts, it also polishes the ice smooth as glass. How can I work with Mother Nature?

I love that the ice rink is free. It requires a shovel and some muscles and the will to dig and find ice beneath the snow. True, we just got a snowblower, but as you will see from the pictures the high snow drifts have stopped this machine in its tracks. Where snowblowers can’t go, two resolute women with shovels can go!!

Then, once the shovelling is done, the skating begins. I skate in  circles weaving this way and that through the curved paths we have cleared. I feel as if the skein of wool that is wrapped up inside me is slowly unravelling as I skate!