Icy Amusements

Ho hum.  A winter without any snow can be really boring.  No skiing or sledding or snowshoeing or following animal tracks in the woods.  But lucky for me, I am easily amused.  And even luckier for me, I not only have the wonderful Moreau Lake to explore in every weather, I also have a congenial pal named Sue to enjoy exploring it with me.  We met for a walk at the lake this morning and were delighted to see the water completely frozen over.  Not thickly enough to cross as yet, but perfect for ambling along on close to shore, where we could see straight down to the lake bottom under crystal-clear ice.  Here's a view of the lake from the new deck of a cabin that hangs right over the water.  Over the ice, today.  (Lucky the campers who rent this cabin next summer!)

Here's Sue trying to take a video of the hundreds of minnows that clustered close to shore, exploding away at our footfalls above them, faster than we could capture a photo of them.

I loved looking down through the ice at the many-colored stones, their beauty intensified by the crystalline water.

A frozen lake presents many puzzles, such as what caused these bulges of clear ice to form around the base of plant stalks?

Or what caused these jagged patterns of frosted and clear on the surface of the ice? 

Here was an interesting patch of clear dark circles polka-dotting an area of white opaque ice.

The pattern above is just the reverse of what we expect to see.  Usually, ice bubbles are opaque white  as they stack up in layers within the dark clear ice .  We found lots of bubbles like that, each one prettier than the last.

Here was a distinct trail of bubbles that formed as a creature swam under the ice.  And what could that creature be?

Most likely the creature that takes shelter under this heap of sticks and leaves, a muskrat lodge.

Aha!  More evidence that a muskrat has been about, dragging its skinny tail through the slushy ice before it froze hard.

And here is the muskrat in the flesh, resting under the boat dock near the beach.  Of course, it dived into the open water before I could get a closer shot.

At this point, we were more than half-way around the lake, but we had to hurry on so that Sue could get to work on time.  We'd spent a long time dallying on the bridge between the lake and the back bay, marveling at the howls and pings and cracks and groans that lake ice makes as it freezes, sounding like a battle out of Star Wars.  As I said before, we are easily amused.

'Tis the Season!

 Here it is at last, the fourth Sunday of Advent!  I like to keep Advent as a season in its own right, a time not for holiday celebrations before their time, but rather for quietly waiting for Christmas as the darkness deepens outside.  But now that the last Advent candle has been lit, it's time to start bringing some Christmas things down from the attic, including this little shrine to a paddler Santa and his northwoods companions.

A few more creatures have joined the party this year, including several that normally wouldn't be up and about at Christmas time -- the snapping turtle and snake would likely be hibernating (as would the bear and raccoon), the Mallard hen should have flown south, and the Red-eyed Tree Frog would never be found this far north unless it was somebody's pet.  But I couldn't find any toy native frogs this tiny, and besides, we know that Santa is magic, and that his love would be strong enough to keep everybody warm.  (And also to keep the critters from trying to eat one another.)



The weather, too, took a Christmassy turn today, with temperatures plunging down into the teens and single digits.  But oh, what a sapphire sky!  I wrapped up my ears and set off around the shore of Moreau Lake for an afternoon hike.  My approach set off quite a ruckus among the large flock of Canada Geese that had congregated on the open water of the lake.

Although the windswept center of the lake was still wide open, all the sheltered bays were filmed with a thin layer of ice, not strong enough yet to walk on, but glassy enough to make for some lovely reflections.

Close to the shore, where the ice froze clear as crystal, I could see these clusters of tiny bubbles trapped beneath, flattened on top where they pressed against the ice, which rendered them iridescent.

Here are some more.  Aren't they beautiful?  Who need diamonds and pearls, when Nature gifts us with such treasures.

The ice turned the bubbles to diamonds and pearls,  while the sunlight turned the water ripples to ribbons of gold on the underlying sand.

As I strode along on the sunlit shore, I grew warm enough to loosen my coat -- almost warm enough to fool me into thinking these might be blooming flowers, opening their yellow petals to the sun.  But no, I knew better.  These are the bracts of Witch Hazel flowers, what's left after the ribbon-like petals have fallen.

Wouldn't these pretty Witch Hazel bracts make appropriate Christmas decorations, as symbols of life in the dead of winter, the same as evergreens?  No, no, I take that back.  Leave them out in the woods where they belong, to delight us when we happen upon them, these pert little posies "blooming" all winter long.