Photo Credit: Baikal Ice Crack (anon)
How did it take me so long to get off the road? Off the trails? It took 15 months.
Every morning I walk the kids to the bus and then head out on my own. The road provided enough beauty, interest, safety that I never really thought to leave it on this morning ritual. Until yesterday.
I went cross country behind the abandoned farm stead and delapidated windmill. Through the plowed field, across the prairie. It was cold- 0 degrees and I'm wearing my new Carharts which are stiff-- this is harder than running. Just lifting my knees against the heavy canvas overalls through the snow. I followed footsteps- deer, pheasants, Happy's and a mans. I was surprised to find a man's footprints- Mike said there were hunters out a few days ago.
I pushed my way through head-high, thick reeds towards the slough. There are a lot more muskrat lodges this year. I walked out onto the ice. It was so clear and smooth it looked like open water. I stand looking into the crystal clear ice, the few cracks help me gauge the depth of the ice- 6 inches? There are areas of ice where the springs gurgled up and made cloudy ice. I observed this last year and now in winter #2 I know these spots are springs where the ice is built up and tan.
My heart pounds-- the ice might be thick-- but I'm alone. On a pond. In December. Before the sun is up. There are springs scattered around "our side" of the slough. I walk out to a snowy area in the middle of the slough and make a snow angel. This greatly disturbs Happy who barks loudly in my face at my being prone. High strings of clouds are sailing by-- but the wind is not bad here on the ground.
I see my house to the north and make a bee-line. My bee-line takes me past my bee hives. I get on my hands and knees and put my ear to the hive entrance. I can hear them buzzing. Blessing to you little ones on this cold day. I dream of the honey I'll harvest next summer.
Up my porch steps- ruddy cheeked. The sun rises as I stand on my porch. A new day.