Early each winter, the lake goes through alternating periods of surface freezing and thawing. If a big wind comes up during a thaw, it buckles the ice and piles it up in ridges as the waves push towards the shore. How many of these winds and thaws occur before the final big freeze determines the ice “landscape” the residents along the lake will look at for the rest of the season. This year we have a series of ranges that look like they could be distant mountains. Some of my neighbors bundled up and walked out to the ice-fishing huts further out, scrambling over the ridges as a giant might, in a few well-placed bounds.
For view more photos of water around the world, and to play along, visit Watery Wednesday.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.