Frosted Walkway Stones

The northern side of the Olin Library at Cornell has an outdoor second story stone walkway with a lovely view of the Arts Quad. Though there is ample seating on many well positioned benches, this terrace isn't a popular gathering place in the winter months because the main portion of the building casts a continual shadow on the entire area. 



Above is satellite imagery showing the area in the morning light of early spring. In the Winter, when the sun remains lower to the horizon, the shadows of the library and the adjacent building extend well past the walkway, leaving it in continual shadow.  View Larger Map


The other day I was on campus biding some time, so I ascended to this walkway in hope of using it's vantage point to find a sunnier spot to sit. In an effort to spice-up the bland monotony of grey slate slabs, the walkway is salted with smooth white stones. I quickly noticed, by nearly falling on my face, that some of these white stones were covered in a well-disguised layer of frost. With complete disregard to my the odd looks of the few people sitting around on nearby benches, I proceeded to skate back and forth on my impromptu ice rink.


Having been enamored of this makeshift winter wonderland, I sat down on a cold stone bench and watch various people in the quad below. Directly below me was the most lopsided pair of frisbee throwers. The weaker half of the pair seemed to have never learned the basics of catching, throwing, running, or really using any of his muscles in a coordinated way during the first 20 years of life. This became ever more amusing as he proceeded to hit or nearly hit several people on paths 90° from the direction he was aiming.


Further down the grassy quad, a group of students was playing the most bizarre game. From the very little I could see from my distant viewpoint, there were 3 people each on two teams, who took turns throwing sticks toward small objects at the feet of the opposite team. Then every once and a while, someone earned the privileged of throwing a stick at a larger thing halfway between the teams. Presumably if one knocked this thing over, the game ended. It was fun to watch, because though I couldn't directly see the outcome of each toss, I could easily surmise the result from the animated reactions of the players. A close miss is universally understood.


The highlight of the afternoon, however, was not the entertaining people on the grass below, but rather those on the path behind me. Just as I had, unsuspecting walkers were happening upon the frosty white stones, with the most diverse of responses.


Some would slip, stop, and slowly proceed in a straight line with their arms slightly raised at their sides, walking an imaginary tightrope to safety. Others would pretend nothing happened and confidently walk a few steps before slipping again. The more scientifically minded would stop and examine the frosty stone and slowing make their way across the walkway carefully prodding each frost patch with the outstretched toe of their shoe. A few joined my skating rink; one even doubled back to skate some more on the ice.


My favorite was a young woman who was obviously having a bad day and, after slipping, decided to take out her frustration on a few small rocks that were in her path, proceeding to violently kick each with malice normally reserved for an unfaithful lover.


Now, some of my readers might ask, why I didn't warn these people before their inevitable falls. Firstly, I was on the phone for some of the time. Secondly, it would be extremely awkward. Lastly, such a warning seems insulting to each individuals capacity to navigate a level walkway and to our species as a whole. Also, it was just too much fun to watch.