Miraculous things are happening and as I walk with Duncan in our slowly melting snowscape, I'm finally able to enjoy one of my favorite parts of winter, that time when the snow recedes and melts and the running water carves out shelves in the ice that has long been hidden beneath. For as long as I can remember I have taken immense delight on stepping on the little frozen lips just to feel and hear the crack of ice beneath my feet, the pressure and seeming firmness of it before it shatters and gives out beneath me. When I was a child, and just learning about the slow shaping of the continents, I imagined that ice as huge masses of frozen land that bent to my will and weight and was forever shaped by my passing. It was a game I looked forward to playing on my walks to and from school and part of that still lingers all these years later.
Miraculous things can happen when the ice breaks. And I get to share them with my good red dog at my side.