Growing up, there were a number of rituals in our family surrounding the holidays. One of which involved me saving my milk cartons from my school lunch and bringing them home over the period of a week (or two) in preparation for making ice candles. It was always a little bit magical to dangle a wick into the (cleaned) milk cartons, then fill with ice before we poured melted wax over it. The ice would crackle and the wax would hiss. And I'd wait, rather impatiently, for the wax to cool and set up, occasionally poking it with my finger, then peeling off the still hot wax that had made a searing impression of my fingerprints.
