It squeeks under my boots as we walk along the path.
It is very cold - minus 25 this morning.
We are bundled up against the wind chill.
The cold wind brushes my face and makes my cheeks tingle.
I bang it against the fence post to loosen it from its moorings so I can toss it.
The ball is also frozen - a solid orange circle that keeps squirting sideways out of Libby's jaws as she pounces.
Every few feet she stops, drops and rolls in the snow, making random sideways snow angels.
The snow is packed, frozen.
We walk on top of it - walking on frozen water.
Home, finally, I brew a pot of tea and get out the sock I am knitting.
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