I live right around the corner from a really great sledding hill. The local university's practice soccer field sits at the bottom of a big, gently-sloped hill on 3 sides. There are no trees, roads, or dangerous things sticking up anywhere at the bottom.
I took this picture earlier this week at the top of the longest run; the fastest/steepest run is directly across the basin starting at the road. You can tell that it's a school day!
One of the things I most associate with winter is seeing neighborhood kids bundled up like marshmallows and making their way to the sledding hill, and the happy shrieks we can hear from our yard. It's fun and (mostly) safe and feels very wholesome.
I think a lot about how it doesn't have to be this way. Sledding tears up the hill. In the spring, the most popular routes are nothing but rugged mud. The grass looks awful, and I'm sure it's not the preferred thing for the maintenance crew or the soccer coaching staff.
The university could easily close the field, keep people off it. Instead, they have a few signs about how sledding is at your own risk. Hundreds of kids (and quite a few adults) have the time of their lives.
Someone, somewhere at the university has decided to make the hill accessible for the community and to bear the costs of doing so.
When it feels like the whole world is falling apart, I find it helpful to remember that there are little pockets of goodness everywhere. I'm inspired to think about what I can do or make accessible simply because it's fun and the right thing to do in the bigger scheme of things, even when it isn't convenient or optimal on a boring, adult level.
Take care,
Camille
