Every year, in the very early spring, a little pond forms in the front of our yard.  As the snow melts along the driveway, the water collects in a low spot, pooling around the trees and bushes.  Ice clings to the edges of the drive, holding the water in place for a while, but slowly retreating as the sun warms and the earth reappears. The pond is cold and murky, filled with rotting leaves and broken branches.   It is perfect for stirring with a big stick.  It is a magnet for little boys.

There were many spring days in the past when my sons would put on their boots and march forth into the icy water.  I always knew that the boots, worn down by the long winter, were the slimmest protection from the frigid water, but I felt like I was doing my duty by insisting that they be…