“…..I recall an ice storm in the mid-1970s that transformed the grey winter landscape into a crystalline wonderland…..When we needed a rest, we simply skated onto the beach and warmed ourselves by a roaring bonfire. The fresh air fun lasted for hours. Our cheeks stung from the cold, but we did not care…..”
Predictions of snow make many Long Islanders grumble — but they give me a thrill.
My love of wintry, cold weather puts me in the minority. I rejoice when the winter solstice arrives Dec. 21 and lament when the summer solstice comes in late June. The “longest day of the year” signals the arrival of summer heat and discomfort. The winters of my adult life are nothing like the winters of my youth in Lindenhurst. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, we could depend on ponds and canals freezing and staying that way for days and sometimes weeks. I recall an ice storm in the mid-1970s that transformed the grey winter landscape into a crystalline wonderland. The branches of the white birch on my front lawn arced gracefully from the weight of the ice. I was transfixed by the sparkle and beauty of nature. Sadly, the tree did not survive once it thawed.
Those days of bitter single-digit winters meant the ponds and canals were open for ice skating. Nothing warmed my heart more than heading down Venetian Boulevard in Lindenhurst to what we called “Little Beach,” a small patch on the canal that opened to the Great South Bay.
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