I didn’t intend to build a snow-fort. I was just goofing off while Mr. Raven made repairs to snow-damaged gutters. In between holding the ladder and fetching tools, I puttered around, organizing clumps of snow into an igloo shape; an open-concept igloo, meaning I didn’t attempt a roof. It’s an ice-palace tower. It’s a Fortress of Solitude.
It felt good to be playing outside in the sunshine. The snow was perfect for construction; sticky and cooperative. A glaze of ice on top made a stackable, flatish surface. The walls grew taller and taller. I kept thinking I was going to stop, but I didn’t. I knew I would pay with a backache, but I kept stacking and building long after the gutter repairman had gone inside.
Apparently he was amused. Apparently, he took this picture.
The girls would enjoy this, I thought while I worked. But a Fortress of Solitude must be built alone. That’s a rule. The walls would not be this tall if children had helped. Someone would’ve fussed for a snowman instead. Someone would’ve gone all Jericho on the thing.
Before the sun set, it burned a hole in one side which I mended this morning, while it was still below freezing. This afternoon, when the sun softened the snow again, I balanced more melty chunks on top; precariously perched chunks which will freeze up nice and solid tonight.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll try to patch up some of the weak spots. Maybe I’ll put a lawn chair in there and sit and ponder the thing.
It’s perilous out there now. The path is so slick I wear traction devices on my boots. The walls are so tall, the chunks of ice so heavy- well, frankly I could be killed. The whole thing could cave in on me and I’d be buried. Mr. Raven might not notice for days.
People would say, Well, she died doing what she loved.
They’d tsk-tsk sadly, saying, And this is the last picture she ever took.
Daily Prompt What was the last picture you took? Tell us the story behind it.
via A Moment in Time.