A frozen waterfall along Glebe Road, just outside the quaint seaside town of St.Andrews (N.B.), was recently discovered by yours truly. I, along with a friend, stopped for a half hour, happily photographing the motionless water. Standing before it, in small 'a' awe, I was reminded of how important water is in my life. I don't like water...I love it.
I prefer water to run freely as it does in the three seasons not called winter, but frozen water takes on its own charm. In the wilds, ice can take on the quality of molten glass, bending light with delicious consequences. It rivals any sculpture created by the hand of humans. My middle image reminds me of Haida art.
I have been known to partake in the occasional use of domestic ice. My rum and Coke is much happier swimming with a few square bergs. I've curled and skated on domestic ice, but I much prefer skating on wild, free range ice, such as can be found when the mighty Washademoak freezes. My lake is trying to freeze at the moment, going through a number of freeze and thaw exercises. Soon it will be frozen solid.
One of the most pleasant, yet haunting, aspects of living next to the lake is the singing. No, I'm not talking about Wendy and the numerous opera singers who frequent our lakeside studio. I'm talking about the lake singing. During the frigid nights of winter, the lake sings loudly. I'm not sure if it's caused by the changing tides under the ice, or simply the shifting ice, but sing it does. It's hard to describe the sound, though it sounds very much like the song of the whale. I'll try and record it this winter and put a sound bite on the blog.
It's just one of the many joys of my Canadian winter.
Do you love winter, Ian?
Well, let's just say that I wouldn't say no to a one way ticket to St.Barths.
There aren't any waterfalls there, frozen or liquid.
I'd wash my sorrow away with an icy rum n' Coke. Or two.