Ice cream is a frozen dessert that makes the perfect topping on a slice of pie. However, eating it too fast can cause a brain freeze—and when spoken too quickly, it sounds like an emotional cry. Wintersetonians can’t get enough of this velvety, creamy treat. They will stand in line day and night for a taste of soft-serve ice cream. The small building with a red roof—behind the sign of a kid eating a cone—sits on the corner of East Green Street and John Wayne Drive. Though it can only accommodate a small staff, its size doesn’t stop it from attracting a large crowd.

Here’s the scoop: chocolate and vanilla cones are popular from mid-spring through late fall. Double dipping is highly encouraged—it just takes more licks, that’s all. Sundaes aren’t limited to weekends; they can be enjoyed any day of the week. Multiple scoops of ice cream, topped with sauce, whipped cream, and nuts, make for a scrumptious treat. And if you want to take your taste buds on a flavorful adventure, don’t forget to add some sprinkles.

This paragraph may not be about the weather, but their Cyclones will surely take you for a spin. You can start with a simple ice cream and add ingredients to create a wild mix. If you’re not in the mood for something so adventurous, perhaps a shake would be a better choice.

The sundry also offers a few frozen novelties if you’re tired of having a float or a slush. I have never had a monkey tail, though it sounds like something that would make a banana split. In honor of Thanksgiving, even turkeys could order a drumstick.

Since reopening in the middle of May, Frostee’s has once again drawn a steady stream of locals eager for their favorite treat.
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!

www.wintersetmadisonian.com

“Please explore my other newsletter, Narratives and Notes on Substack, where writers and musicians share insights into how they hone their craft.”

I am a proud member of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative and the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat Collaborative!

Here is a link to learn more about our Iowa Writer’s Collaborative writers.

https://iowawriters.substack.com/i/145661110/who-we-are

** Please join us for the monthly Iowa Writers’ Collaborative’s Office Lounge for paid subscribers to any member column. It’s the last Friday of every month except for November and December. Please join members of the Collaborative and other subscribers for conversation. Here is the link.

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I recently attended the graduation ceremony for our local high school seniors, where they celebrated their academic achievements by receiving diplomas. Ironically, I, too, am a senior, though it’s been nearly 50 years since I stood on a similar stage.

I prefer the term senior. It sounds much better than being called old or, worse, an elder. Actually, “old” even sounds better than “elder,” because “elder” makes you seem significantly older. “Old” suggests you’re just beginning that long, gentle descent toward “over the hill.” “Elder,” on the other hand, feels like you’ve already reached the bottom, popped the cork, and are convincing yourself you’re aging like a fine wine.

It’s funny how one word can have so many meanings. I’m sure these newly minted academic seniors don’t struggle much with memory, unless, of course, they’ve been told to clean their room. When it’s not spic-and-span in a day or two, they can simply say they forgot. Meanwhile, I, a more experienced senior, deal with short-term memory loss. “Now…what were we talking about?”

Graduates can look forward to a bright future as they open the door to new beginnings. Their lives are just starting as they head toward college and future careers. When I open the door, it’s more like “age before beauty.” Although I do appreciate that seniors still respect their elders, there’s that word again, even if they don’t realize I’m well into my second childhood.

I applaud and respect the seniors who made it through high school in this age of “smart” technology. I’ve always heard that if you have a problem with your computer, just call a ten-year-old. The other day, I pushed the button on the TV remote… and the garage door opened.

www.wintersetmadisonian.com

“Please explore my other newsletter, Narratives and Notes on Substack, where writers and musicians share insights into how they hone their craft.”

I am a proud member of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative and the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat Collaborative!

Here is a link to learn more about our Iowa Writer’s Collaborative writers.

https://iowawriters.substack.com/i/145661110/who-we-are

** Please join us for the monthly Iowa Writers’ Collaborative’s Office Lounge for paid subscribers to any member column. It’s the last Friday of every month except for November and December. Please join members of the Collaborative and other subscribers for conversation. Here is the link.

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There are always ups and downs. Things can shift in the blink of an eye, and it’s only natural to feel uneasy about what might be waiting just around the corner. Just when you think you’ve finally got it all figured out, everything has a way of turning upside down. And when it does, trust that you’re being guided in the right direction and that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Because sometimes life feels like a roller coaster, and we are simply along for the ride.

So when Iowa’s largest amusement park opened, I had to go. Not to ride the rides at my age (let’s just say I’ve long since exceeded the speed limit), but to photograph the variety of people who pay a hefty admission fee, stand side-by-side in endless lines, and eventually find themselves wedged and strapped into a tiny car among friends or strangers, all for a brief adrenaline rush.

Climbing vertically one hundred and thirty-three feet into the sky, easing over the edge to pause for the briefest second at the very top, then plunging straight downward, hearts in their stomachs, as everything changes in an instant.

Screaming at the top of their lungs, hands raised, catching their breath only long enough to be whipped upside down and right side up five times, left dangling headfirst without warning, much like those moments that catch us off guard.

Then racing through banked curves, twisting turns, stall loops, and corkscrews, each one faster than the last, until they’re speeding at sixty-five miles per hour, caught somewhere between fear and exhilaration, completely at the mercy of the ride.

Watching from behind the lens, I couldn’t help but notice how quickly fear turned to laughter once the ride slowed and the bar lifted. Smiles replaced screams, and just like that, they were ready to do it all over again. As for me, I’ll keep my feet firmly on the ground, my camera in hand, and my speed safely under the limit. After all, some rides are better watched than ridden.

www.wintersetmadisonian

“Please explore my other newsletter, Narratives and Notes on Substack, where writers and musicians share insights into how they hone their craft.”

I am a proud member of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative and the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat Collaborative!

Here is a link to learn more about our Iowa Writer’s Collaborative writers.

https://iowawriters.substack.com/i/145661110/who-we-are

** Please join us for the monthly Iowa Writers’ Collaborative’s Office Lounge for paid subscribers to any member column. It’s the last Friday of every month except for November and December. Please join members of the Collaborative and other subscribers for conversation. Here is the link.

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Daisy caught a squirrel over the weekend after what felt like endless hours stationed at her post beside the French door, lying in wait and peering through the bottom panes like a watchful guard. That door, with its white wooden grid, three squares across the top and five marching down, stands as the only barrier between her and the wild kingdom just beyond in the backyard.

Just to clarify, in case you were confused, Daisy is not a flower fresh from my garden bed, although I suppose it could be possible for a perennial to trip a tree rat with its roots. No, she is my Aussiedoodle. Despite her name, which means innocence and new beginnings, she definitely has a mind of her own.

Daisy isn’t alone in her quest. Our tri-color Australian Shepherd, Madison, often joins her, scanning the grass for any movement. When the two of them spot a squirrel making its way along the top of the fence, it’s not a quiet affair. Madison barks out a high-pitched alarm, as if someone stepped on her toe, followed by Daisy chiming in, both of them sounding like they’re auditioning for a duet.

You might think they would immediately sprint toward the door after their victim, but no. Instead, they whirl around each other, barking and spinning in circles like they’ve lost their minds.

Maybe it’s me who doesn’t understand. This isn’t a rain dance, even though we’ve had plenty of rain lately. It’s their way of telling us to open the door and let them out. “Who let the dogs out?” you ask. Well, my husband finally did, and it was all fun and games until the unfortunate news arrived: the squirrel had crossed over the rainbow bridge.

“Please explore my other newsletter, Narratives and Notes on Substack, where writers and musicians share insights into how they hone their craft.”

I am a proud member of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative and the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat Collaborative!

Here is a link to learn more about our Iowa Writer’s Collaborative writers.

https://iowawriters.substack.com/i/145661110/who-we-are

** Please join us for the monthly Iowa Writers’ Collaborative’s Office Lounge for paid subscribers to any member column. It’s the last Friday of every month except for November and December. Please join members of the Collaborative and other subscribers for conversation. Here is the link.

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We recently paid tribute to the women who raised us on Mother’s Day, recognizing the care they give to their families and communities. They have given us life, love us unconditionally, sacrifice their own needs, teach us right from wrong, comfort us, celebrate our successes, encourage us to chase our dreams, and create a safe place to call home.

Now imagine you’re a young squirrel in a tree-filled neighborhood. Your mother has taught you to stay alert, watch the ground for cats, and watch the sky for predators. If startled, dash to the nearest tree. If a predator gets too close, freeze like a statue. Learn which trees offer the best cover and the safest escape routes, and always look both ways before crossing the street. Hide your nuts carefully, flick your tail to warn others of danger, and stay aware of your surroundings.

Mother knows best, and she’s given you the basics to keep you safe. But on a sunny day with a mild breeze, you begin to question her methods. She gathers you and your siblings for what feels like an expedition, up, down, and around the trees, until you reach the highest branch, about twenty feet up, with two dogs roaming the yard below. She tells you to jump, trusting you’ll land on the highest branch of the tree on the other side.

Momma makes the leap effortlessly. Your brother and sister follow, one after the other.

But you’re not so sure. You hesitate, looking for another option, maybe stairs, maybe an elevator, some way to get down, hit the ground running, and scamper up the other trunk. Panic sets in. You dart up and down the tree again, searching for another route when something catches your eye. Squirrel. Just long enough to lose focus. You shake it off and keep moving, but your heart is racing even faster. Then, without overthinking it, you spread your arms in Hail Mary fashion. Your short life flashes before your eyes …

… and somehow, heart pounding, breath held, you find yourself clinging to the branch beside them on the other side.

www.wintersetmadisonian.com

“Please explore my other newsletter, Narratives and Notes on Substack, where writers and musicians share insights into how they hone their craft.”

I am a proud member of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative and the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat Collaborative!

Here is a link to learn more about our Iowa Writer’s Collaborative writers.

https://iowawriters.substack.com/i/145661110/who-we-are

** Please join us for the monthly Iowa Writers’ Collaborative’s Office Lounge for paid subscribers to any member column. It’s the last Friday of every month except for November and December. Please join members of the Collaborative and other subscribers for conversation. Here is the link.

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