On the Ice

an exploration of a true winter landscape

The cold, bitter and biting, swept into the mountains these past weeks. An unwelcome wind accompanies this arctic outflow; whipping through the towering trees, shocking in its sting. A step outside; nostrils frozen, breath stolen, I do not make it far beyond my door these days.

But before this steep descent, when temperatures were cold, but not painfully so, I found myself out there, bundled and shivering, but soaked in sunshine and cautiously shuffling along the smooth, slippery expanse of a lake solidly frozen.

I carefully stride out onto the ice along the shore from a little protected bay, a place I visit frequently in spring and summer, watching the lake flow into the river and all manner of birds flit to and fro.

It is slippery here. And clear. I look beneath my feet to the very lake bed; where bubbles rising from within the earth first escape to the water, before they are captured and held within an icy embrace.

I find myself nervous out there on the ice, and for a while, I stay where it is shallow; where, if the worst should happen, I would fall into water no deeper than my waist.

But we have been cold and the ice is solid, and I start to trust the foundation beneath my feet. Eventually, I adventure further beyond my comforts, where the ice turns opaque and cloudy; and I no longer have the unnerving reminder that I am walking on water.

At one end of the lake, my fellow Canadians glide on their skates, and homemade hockey rinks are scattered over the ice.

But at this end, it’s quietly untouched. Unmarked. Uninhabited. My vision is consumed with the vast expanse of white, cradled within mountain giants, and not a soul to be seen.

Until next time,

♡ Whitney

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I am currently working on a video of this lake wander, which I think will capture the experience better than my photos. Stay tuned on YouTube for that one.

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