Ground Shift
November
Like many children of my generation, I lived in mortal terror of quicksand. One Sunday afternoon viewing of Tarzan and the Amazons, and my nights were filled with visions of stepping unawares into a swampy deathtrap. I know I’m not alone in remembering the powerful image of men sinking beneath the surface of what had seemed an ordinary patch of jungle scrubland, and probably not the only person to have felt that even bad guys didn’t deserve this fate. The idea that the ground could shift from something solid to something close to liquid was frightening in all kinds of ways for my sensitive young imagination.
The transformation beneath my feet this week has been less treacherous. That satisfying crunch of frosty grass, the crack of a frozen puddle, the slide of icy pavements and roads. And the risks of a fall or a twisted ankle – serious hazards for some of us – are minor compared to the delight of first snow. Feeling the earth through my boots, magically hardened and softened all at once, I am returned to other childhood dreams. An eerily quiet school-day morning, blanketed in white and inviting us out to play. A Saturday afternoon spent skidding across the shallows of a lake. Standing by the back door barefoot at dusk, daring to step out into the snow and feel a delicious chill seep between my toes.
