A post about snow and sub-zero temperatures.

I returned home to Germany in the middle of a cold front. -10C in the morning, -20C at night. They said it was the coldest it had ever dropped in eighteen years, and the girl from Hawaii was there to feel it all.

The next day, it started to snow. It snowed all night and the morning thereafter, which is a sight that always brings a peace to my soul. You couldn't pull me away from the window at times like those.

The trees dropped their leaves and grew crystals in their places, like perfect science experiments that involve sugar and jars and water and solid crystal formations that you can eat. When the sun came up, the world sparkled and I felt new.

The fields, as vast as usual, were were suffocated in white. They stretched out until they reached the sun and when it didn't look like a desert, it looked like the sea. "I've never seen anything like it before," I whispered upon windows, the secret of my ignorance puffed across its pane. I wiped my sleeve across it.

It was important that we took advantage of the snow. It was everywhere and it lasted for days, piling up against curbs and compacting beneath feet. We grabbed our sleds and went to the lake.

There are few things that terrify me, and it wasn't until I moved to Germany that I realized that walking on lakes was one of them. Winter, in fact, scares me in the same way that fresh water does. My only explanation is that I was raised on an island that has an over-abundant supply of salt water and a yearly average of 72.2 degrees F (23.3 degrees C). In every regard, I am not in my element.

So when The Parents ran out onto the lake with The Kids on sleds trailing behind, you could bet that the little Asian girl you saw creeping at an awkward angle away from the shore was me. I didn't confess the extent of my terror until the afternoon when we were indoors and warm, sipping hot chocolate. It's not likely that I'll do it again.

It took about a half hour for me to resume walking like my homies, the homoerectus, but after that it was more like a rollercoaster ride; thrilling, but only because my brain expected me to die.

Exiting the lake was an absolute nightmare as the ice before the dock was melted. We're talking bonafide slush to the point where my feet sank and my body rejected all commands of movement. In fact, my brain did not even grant me the gift of watching my life flash before my eyes, which is source of deep and continual resentment. Eventually, The Parents ordered me to continue walking or I would literally sink and be doomed to never write another post again. After passionately kissing dry land, I noticed a plethora of paper printouts that read, "Aufenthalt vor dem See," or "Stay off the lake."

The following day, we replaced sleds with ice skates and headed to the local ice skating arena. The five of us were a sight. The Mom had never been on ice skates, The Dad hadn't been skating in twenty years, and the meek au pair who grew up on a tropical island was strangely better than either of them. Still, with our powers combined, we took two kids on laps upon 30-minute-long laps. It was slow and messy going, but I relished the blue skies that looked down upon me. I was in the open air, looking at the trees and the sun and gliding along on layers of frozen water.



After a few hours, the kids were exhausted and we took it as an opportunity to transition to our next activity. In a few minutes we were at the door of a log cabin imported from Russia to visit a family friend. What mysteriously unfolded is an event that I like to refer to as, "redneck sledding."

In the backyard of this Russian cabin is a tractor, and mounted to this tractor is a baby seat. Hitched behind the tractor is a wagon, and propped on top the wagon is a bench, and trailing behind the wagon are two ropes that are attached to two sleds which would later carry two five year old boys through he town of Wickberg.

The most ridiculous event by far.

ps. The Russian Cabin is a house of death. I've never seen so much taxidermy in my life.