Icicles

Outside my bedroom window a soft scallop-shaped drift of snow dangles over the edge of the roof. The wind must blow in such a pattern that it causes the snow to sift to this particular spot and clump together. It reminds me of a huge marshmallow and I almost want to reach out and scoop up a dollop.

During the late afternoons, the warm sunshine melts the underside of the snow cover and as the water runs down the flashing and drips from the gutter, it forms a long icicle. Indeed, not just by my bedroom window, but all along the north side of our building. Some of these icy tentacles dangling from our roof reach nearly to the ground. I expect any minute a kissing of stalactite and stalagmite formations.

Apparently I am not the only one who thought these frozen concoctions might break off and shatter through someone's window. As I stared at my icicle, I heard the drone of an ATV. One of the maintenance guys zoomed along underneath the roof overhang, brandishing a long pole. Like the knights of old, he charged the row of ice, scattering shards everywhere. Fortunately none clattered through glass and no one was nearby though I have to confess to ducking and closing my eyes as he passed my window.

After his successful joust, he stood in the stirrups of his vehicle, waved the pole above his head and did his best Rocky impression. I had to laugh. I am sure he was unaware that I was watching.

What a far cry from when I was a little girl and my siblings and I worked hard to dislodge icicles from our roof not because we thought they were dangerous, but because we thought it a grand treat to lick them like Popsicles! There is nothing quite like the cardboardy taste of a nice long icicle. Good Lord. It just goes to prove that old adage: You have to eat a peck of dirt before you die, so you might as well start young!