![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-0C3ic2ThxYP3Gn4-b6n7B_JwWi1teiL8-C9EHQfCu_DZPom0zAKN-uIiauep2v7tYuEkcxD4PE4yLv-4d5KNaLXLqLwkbyy5O0Vt4sW7owgxeh7VYbHkuh_U19k_zgwKI_aO2EYhoQ/s640/DSC02702_edited-1.jpg)
It is barely light on a Saturday morning - the temperature during the last two nights was well below freezing - the neighbor kids have waited months for this day - it's time for pond hockey! .
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtXUYtTX4QYx3ZN4UEXCsZZ11_zJkBBCAnICvCegDQEe-E4sahjn0gGC09kffYg2Tv4UUwpUlfaidRZuYlur0plD-U9MEnAcMlsnl5RnwGc8FmdZtCuxovb6SgnZ5C9NVZpA8sQZ2-8l4/s640/DSC02713_edited-1.jpg)
A few hours later, the sun streams through the trees lighting the ice and casting long shadows. I bet these kids will carry with them for all their lives, the memory of playing on this little neighborhood pond - the sights above coupled with the echoing sounds of pressure cracks, the scrape of sharpened steel blades on ice, and the slap of a wooden stick on a rubber puck. These are sights and sounds of a lifetime.
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