My last day in Latest Tiny Village, Alaska, was the coldest one in my three weeks there, and the last day of school before the break. I had planned to make snow ice cream, come hell or high water, and with staunch encouragement from my obligatory cheering section, I made the preparations. I was accompanied outside to collect the snow by one intrepid fourth grader, and our ensuing activity served as a magnet for the other students. Soon we had huge bowls full of both chocolate and vanilla, enough to share with the whole school.

Snow ice cream doesn’t keep. Put it in the freezer and it turns to solid ice; leave it out for a minute and it turns to water, but in between those extremes is a simple delicacy. Get past all the requisite jokes about yellow snow, choose fresh ingredients, and get ready to live in the moment. Thinking about snow ice cream, I am reminded of that old saw, “Carpe diem,” which has nothing to do with fish, carp or otherwise. For those who did not suffer through three years of high school Latin, I will hereby translate: “Carpe diem” means, more or less, “Seize the day.” As in, when the snow is fresh and clean, make your ice cream and eat it too, even if you have to keep your coat on to do so.

It doesn’t take much of a psycho-linguistic stretch for me to compare this phenomenon to the broader concept of seizing the day. Got a chance to visit an Alaskan village and meet ten or so lively, curious kids from another walk of life? See a beautiful sunrise at eleven a.m. while singing Christmas songs in an ancient language? Wait breathlessly for that plane you see circling the frozen river to bring you a box of Chinese takeout from Fairbanks? Watch the cultivation of that icebound river into a bona fide, albeit temporary, road to the next village? Grab your Admiral Byrd gear and go do it because (I’m sorry about this, I really am) nothing cold can stay.

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For your further edification, just in case you are unsure as to why my comment about “nothing cold” is potentially such a groaner:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/148652/nothing-gold-can-stay-5c095cc5ab679