The park had posted "Thin Ice" signs warning walkers from venturing out on the lake, but I could see that the ice close to shore was thick enough to bear my weight. So I set off around the lake on the ice, keeping to where the water was no more than ankle deep, should I happen to hit a weak spot.
Because snow had fallen on the ice as it froze, I found very few patches of crystal-clear black ice. But I did find a few that were clear enough to capture these tiny bubbles, looking as fizzy as those in a glass of champagne.
We had had a series of above-freezing days, causing the ice sheet to open in cracks, where water oozed up and then refroze, creating these long feathery lines that meandered across the now solidly frozen expanse.
I was lucky I could find two workable ice-grippers for my boots in the trunk of my car. Who cares if they didn't match? That ice was slick!
Some of the ice close to shore was clear enough to reveal the multicolored pebbles lying beneath, now rendered like an Impressionist painting by the textured ice above them.
Where the ice was covered with remnants of snow, I found these patterns of sharp black slashes. They reminded me of drawings by some Abstract Expressionist.
Here were more fascinating patterns, formed by white crinkly ice overlying clear black ice.
Where a tiny creek entered the lake, I found some beautiful frozen bubbles suspended above the creek bottom, left behind when the temporarily splashing water dried up again.
The sun went down awfully early, on this, the shortest day of the year. Time to head home.
There was still enough light from that sun, however, to turn the clouds to spun gold. So lovely!