We had some rain and a slight thaw — enough to dig out a better path between porch and car before it all turns into icy hardpack. I don’t like Jim trekking out to the newspaper box over a hazardous surface, so I get my boots and crampons on. While I’m out, might as well take a few shots of the growing ice.
People ask: “Do you walk out on that?” Nope. The ice builds in chunks, not sheets. At best, broken ankle territory. At worst, icy ballbearings sucking a fool into certain death.
Watching is entertaining enough. I am in awe of the mergansers and golden-eyes who swim and dive out there unperturbed. And when the wind blows, the gulls turn into acrobatic clowns, swooping and tumbling in the breeze.
