“Twelve kinds of ice are carved into twenty vignettes, each
exulting the beauty of ice and ice skating that comes year after year.” -- from the inside cover of Twelve Kinds of Ice

Which is probably the biggest reason why I enjoyed the book
– because it evokes lots of my own sweet memories of ice. Boys – big and little – skating by the
light of the moon on the farm pond.
The sound of blades slicing the ice. Hockey rules nailed to the basement wall. Coats and gloves and skate guards
littering the basement floor. Boys
rushing out to the pond, as soon as the snow stops, to begin cleaning it off .
. . again. Runs to get skates
sharpened or to replace outgrown skates or to buy another bag of pucks. The laughter of skating parties with
cocoa and snacks and Christmas lights strung in the springhouse.
Who knew there could be so much joy packed into such a
simple thing as ice?
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