“Winter was a wondrous time growing up at Woodstock.”
“As children, we couldn’t wait for the ice to form where water would collect in the corner of the soybean field, Along a line of 80 year old crepe myrtles that lined the drive just before it circled in front of the house. We would slide around in our snow boots (who needs ice skates?!) and pull each other on the circular sled until my dad would join the fun on the tractor and drag the sled around our “ice rink”. When the snow would finally fall, we could try out our mini hills that lined the path down to the Piankatank. The winter storms that would produce more ice, made Woodstock a glittering, winter wonderland. Icicles would drip from every branch and glisten in the sunlight.
The 1.5 miles driveway often had trees fall in winter storms, so we could imagine ourselves marooned on our own little farm island, till as a family we’d help dad cut up the wood and clear our path to civilization. We had 4 woodstoves that helped heat the 180 year old home; at bedtime we’d warm ourselves and then run to our bedrooms to snuggle under many layers of cozy blankets, dreaming of more fun winter days and snow days off from school!”