I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring One Direction's Moments in my ear. I snapped my eyes open, and reluctantly reached over to silence the alarm. I sat up in bed and stretched up arms, shaking the stiffness out of one arm from sleeping on it. I swung my legs out from under the covers, and placed them in the fluffy green frog slippers on my floor. I got up and went to the window, hoping Jack Frost had made a visit. As I pulled the curtains to the side, my hopes were met.
"Sweet! Looks like a good foot and a half. No school today, mom!" I yelled as I ran from my room. My mom was down stairs, cooking breakfast. I took the stair two at a time, racing into the kitchen and breathing in the sweet aroma of pancakes and bacon.
"I know sweetie, school called about half an hour ago. You'll have today and probably two more days off at the rate this weather is going." She said with a big smile. She knew I loved snow days, because I could go to my favorite spot by the pond and sketch the beautiful snow laden forest. We lived about a block away from the edge of the woods, and I knew my way perfectly to the secret spot. Nobody else knew about it, and that made it all the more special. "Maybe you could brush up on your ice skating too." She added.
When she mentioned ice skating I perked up, it was one of my favorite past-times. I hadn't had the chance to skate this winter though because the lake would never be frozen enough.
"Hopefully. Say, are you gonna share those flapjacks, or am I gonna have to steal them away from you?" I asked with a sly grin.
"Oh, is that a challenge I hear?" My mom said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She smiled, grabbed the pan full of the delicious flapjacks, and bolted from the kitchen. I immediately took off after her.
"Get back here with my breakfast cakes, woman!" I yelled. We winded through our downstairs area, my mom always one step ahead of me. Finally, when I thought I had her cornered, she threw a pancake at me, knowing it would distract me, and darted away. I caught the pancake to avoid it hitting the floor, and popped it into my mouth. It was delicious, as is all my mother's cooking. I ran in the direction she escaped, only to find her munching on the pancakes.
"Aah! Mom, leave me some, you oinker!" I said playfully, snatching the pan away with only three cakes left. I sat down and eyed her warily, then quickly jumped up and ran over to the cabinet. I ripped the door open, searching for the syrup with one eye, watching my mom with the other. I located the syrup, and sprinted back to my cakes. I liberally poured the syrup on, grabbed the fork on the table, and dug in.
After I finished the pancakes and we ate the bacon, I headed up to my room and got in the shower. After I got out, I put on my favorite long and short sleeved shirts, and layered my pants. I pulled on my snow boots and tucked my pants inside, and put on my white pea coat. I grabbed my wolf spirit-hood and green fingerless gloves, and finally located the bag with my sketchbook. I pulled my ice skates out of my closet and slung them over my shoulder. I made my way down the stairs and stopped at the door. I called out to my mom, "Goin outside, I have my cell if you need me. You know where I'll be!" And with that, I opened the door and stepped outside into the Winter Wonderland.
The cold air felt good on my face. I loved winter; it was one of the most beautiful seasons in an artist's eye. All the sharp angles of ice, and all the soft lines of the snow. I especially loved the ice blue of the sky. But my definite favorite part of winter was that it was Jack Frost's domain. I had read all of the folklore about Jack, and I was fascinated by him. If I was asked, I would definitely say I believed in him.
I made the small journey to the end of my street, crossing the bank of snow at the edge of the road and walking into the forest. All the sounds of the busy town faded the farther I walked, swallowed by the immense amount of nature surrounding me. Another thing I loved about winter was the silence. The snow swallowed all the sounds in the forest, so that I could hear the soft sighing of the trees against the winter breeze. I slowly followed my path, which had miraculously stayed visible against the drifts of snow. When I finally made my way to the pond, my breath was taken at how beautiful it was this year. There was a small ring of snow around the pond, and the pond itself had frozen crystal clear. Although that meant it wasn't frozen completely solid, I could still skate on it for a little bit. The towering Birch tree branches were white with snow, and the shorter Evergreens were dusted with powdery snow on their tops. I made my way over to the group of rocks that acted as my chair, and brushed the snow off of my seat. I sat, down, and paused for a minute, taking in the surroundings, and let my creative juices start to flow. I pulled out my sketchbook, and turned to a clean page. I pulled my watercolors up and set them beside me, and got to work.
I liked mixing my paints with snow instead of regular water, because I felt it connected the picture with the landscape. It also gave the paints a natural feel, like I was becoming one with nature by using the snow. I was in the middle of painting when I hear I slight rustling above to my left. I paused, listening. I turned my head towards the direction of the sound, and peered up into the branches of an Evergreen, trying to find the culprit. Probably just a bird. I thought, then resumed painting. But this time I heard it again, almost directly above my head, and snow fell from the branches to land on my shoulders. Birds don't knock snow from branches. I put my paints down, stood up, and whipped around to look up into the trees.
"Who's there?" I asked. No reply. I turned to sit back down, when something cold smacked me in the back of the head. A snowball? What the crap? I whipped around again, this time looking in the forest instead of in the branches. "Who threw that?" I was starting to get a bit worried. When nobody answered me again, I decided a bit of recon was needed. I grabbed my skates, and headed to the ice. I sat on the edge of the pond, and replaced my boots with my skates. I stood up, and pushed myself off from the bank. I circled the edge of the pond as a warm up before I started making my way towards the middle. I skated quickly, making sure not to stay in one area for too long. The ice wasn't the thickest, and I didn't want it to break beneath me. I surveyed the trees, still looking for the snowball throwing culprit. I looked down just in time to see the huge crack that I was about to skate over. I swerved to the left to avoid it, and lost my footing. I fell forwards and smacked painfully against the ice with an oomph, landing on my stomach. The breath was driven out of me, and it took a minute for me to regain my footing. When I stood back up, and saw the pond, I sorely regretted falling.