I love blizzards because they turn my thoughts to romance, most often of the go out and play variety. To walk the labyrinth is considered a form of meditation. The temporary nature of snow adds an extra element of mystery to the labyrinth, a connection to nature and the fundamental ecological concept of leaving nothing but footprints.
We set down the pattern and worked with two shovels to scoop away the snow and reveal green grass pathways inside a heart shape. Yeah! Yeah! A little romantic clinch never made a person more than gag.
We played a game of Foxes and Bunnies remembered from childhood. The fox can only take inner paths and the bunny can only take the perimeter. The fox tries to catch the bunny where the two paths cross. The object of the game is for the bunny to not get caught. I preferred the opposite objective and when I was caught, we waltzed for a moment, and then I took off on a bunny hop and was grabbed at the waist to turn it into a conga instead. My right foot stuck in a 13-inch snow drift at one of the turns and down we went.
“Your cheeks are all pink and so are your lips. Kissable.” And there it was the spark of spontaneous romance.
I never knew a labyrinth could inspire so many future memories. The day after the blizzard the sun came out to melt away the evidence.
THE END
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