igloos - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Igloos and snowball fights was how the children spent that winter. Hardly a day went by without fresh snowfall and with the roads cut off there was no chance of getting to the school house. They left in the clothes they had dried by the fire the night before with a blade fashioned out of wood and carved their blocks. At first the igloos were haphazard, often times small, but by midwinter the kids had building them down to a science. Several of them were set to carving whilst Jack stood in the middle as the master builder until he was completely entombed in the domed snow house. After that he'd cut both an entrance and a small hole in the roof. They'd build a small tunnel as an entrance to keep it warmer inside. When they were almost done an ambassador from the little troop of builders would come to the house for some kindling and a match. They'd light a small fire inside to partially melt the walls, extinguish it and retreat. Once the water had refrozen the igloo was stronger for it.
Building igloos was at first a science, but once we mastered the basic building skill it became an art form. The night before would find us out in the subzero winds, every inch of skin covered one way or another, filling old yoghurt tubs with water and food colouring. The next day they'd be the most amazing stain-glassed windows for our house of snow. When they were built we lit candles inside and told stories of snowstorms and adventure. From the outside they were chapels of light and inside they could reach a cozy fifteen degrees or so with us all jammed in there. The final one we built was to Taylor's specifications - a halloween igloo. Each one of the translucent windows was orange, grey or black. The inside was sprayed with red so that the walls seemed to be bleeding. Then he showed up dressed as death himself, ready to scare us with stories of local horror and ghosts.
Under the howl of the wind and the blizzard that rained from dark skies, the igloos hunkered low to the endless sea of white. Perhaps when they were built they sat proud to the landscape but for sometime the level of the ground had risen like a slowly creeping tide. Ivan planted his ski poles and gave Sherman the signal to wait. Spending longer than he had to out in the open was the last thing he wanted to do, but there was something so strange about seeing a small village of igloos this far out into the nowhere...
Given the intensity of the storm the igloos would have been easy to miss. They were small mounds in a wintry world where everything was the exact same shade of brilliant white. The only thing that gave any contrast was the dark and endless sea of swirling grey above. Indeed, had they not been directly in Farley's way no-one would ever have found them alive. Inside their houses of snow, the igloo builders had fared as well as could be expected. Their meagre rations had run out but in huddling together, three or four per igloo, they had at least repelled frostbite for the most part. With their stiffened limbs there was no crawling out of the entrances, and indeed they were sealed with fresh fallen snow. Farley cut the tops off one by one, like opening the strangest of eggs. Though his station wasn't far off, it was hardly equipped as a field hospital or even a way-station for this many people...
Igloos of snow soon replaced the sugar cube creations of the warmer months. With several feet of snow Ivan set about making each one of his models into a full sized replica. Like the sand-artists of the summer time, after building each igloo, he set about making carvings in the snow. While the winter lasted, so did his creations, glistening in the cool sunlight or else getting buried in a fresh flurry.
The igloo had a sort of gap-toothed grin look. The white blocks sat at awkward angles and there were far more ways for the winter blasts to get in than there should be. The top, instead of a steady and graceful curve, was wondrous only in the fact that it hadn't yet fallen. But in-front of his new snow house, his "iglu," sat Jerome, with a wide smile that matched the construction behind him. With his igloo built it was time for hot chocolate and s'mores inside before retreating to the warmth of the cottage.
The igloos felt more like an ice-cube to the touch than a fresh drift of snow. The warmth of the day gave them a watery sheen that was quickly frozen solid at the setting of the sun. No matter how hard the wind blew, pushing against the frigid blocks, inside stayed warm and cozy. Snuggled into winter sleeping bags the girls made shapes like earthworms, wiggling this way and that as the night wore on. At last, long after dawn, Jasmine opened her eyes to the white walls, illuminated by sunlight streaming through the roof hole.
In the burnt-orange sunset the igloos took on a peach-hue. No longer were they the brilliant white crystals of the daytime, but instead more soothing under the fading light. Soon would come the warmer weather, the bursting of tree buds and a return to the robustness of spring, but for now we could savour the delights of winter and admire our snow homes before they succumbed to the changing of the season.
The Morrison's built snow forts every year as bunkers for the inevitable snowball fights that came, but winter 1988 they built the most amazing igloo the neighbourhood had ever seen. The eldest of them, Marcus, was fifteen and getting more muscles than his father. He stood in the middle, moving the snow-blocks and smoothing the inside a perfect dome of white had been made. After that they filled the back end of it with snowballs and sat there, waiting for a worthy enemy to challenge them.
The igloo sat on the garden like a lesson in how to defy gravity. The walls were misshapen, the roof concave, yet much to Jake's delight it stood. Mom had hurried out with the camera the instant it was finished, determined to get a few quick shots in before it collapsed. A week had passed since that afternoon, the snow had melted so much that the green grass was peaking through, and still the igloo survived.
From the darkness came a diffuse glow, whitish like the snowy landscape but with a warm orange hue and flickering that reminded Jesse of summertime campfires. When she drew closer she could see that the light came from an igloo. The light that crept between the snow bricks and from the entrance promised warmth and shelter, yet it also promised proximity to a person she didn't know. In that moment she made her decision the numbness of her toes and fingers became more painful, the wind grew colder and her stomach recalled that it had lain empty for too long. Without a choice formulated in words she took a step forwards toward the snow house...
The two igloos are the only thing visible in the otherwise dark yard; the crystalline walls reflecting the last of the sun's rays The dog igloo that was so lovingly built lies empty. Instead Bouncer is the main igloo, a pillow of fur between the children, tail wagging until at last he sleeps. It's hard to pull Mr Granger from the window, though his sleepy wife tries. Nothing will go wrong between now and the morning but his mind is filing and sorting even the remotest possibilities of danger. Before the last of the light has dwindled the dog igloo has a single fur-less occupant wrapped in eider-down and armed with a golf club.