Ice Breaker

We walked on the river again today - I fear I haven't been keeping you up to date on her winter doings. Last week when we explored her ice sculptures, we peeked into the various cave like openings and discovered large, glass shelves about 6-8 inches thick. Hanging under these shelves were whole stacks of decorative glass plates of different sizes and thicknesses; just as if Grandma kept her fancy glass plates in the river! Today the plates had all morphed into hundreds of dangly glass baubles, the kinds you see on dining room chandeliers. Beneath the sculptures we could see the frigid, dark water rushing along and babbling with a mysterious cave voice.

Walking along with ski poles to help keep our footing (they are also good for poking at deep water and whacking things), we gingerly skirt deeply collapsed bowls where the ice has let go of the bank and crashed toward the middle of the river. In some places we narrowly avoid slipping down the sloping ice and plopping right into the water. We gasp in fright and laugh with relief like silly children.

Some sections of the river are still level. In these random places the icy surface has been flooded during the warmer days and refrozen during the nights. This creates a crunchy surface which is as satisfying to walk on as swishing through fallen leaves in the autumn. When we kick these leaves they shatter and clink and crunch like thin glass.

In the light covering of snow we see a zillion criss crossing tracks of other river visitors. Deer, coyotes, elk, squirrels, mice (there is evidence of a tail dragging between the tiny footprints), rabbits, birds and many other tiny footsteps we can't yet identify. I try not to destroy this maze of little tracks, somehow they seem sacred - this is their world afterall, and we are just big-footed interlopers!