On New Year's eve, newly forming ice catches the raking light of the late afternoon sun and the reflections from silver maples overhead, creating a fractured perspective of winter's waterworld by the Concord River. Perhaps a long affinity for late Cubist paintings roused my attention to an offering otherwise easily missed.
And these patterns had an accompaniment. Slow walking with two dear friends through the river floodplain at Great Meadows, we stopped to listen to the cacophony of shattering sounds coming from the frozen basin surrounding these small, ice-skirted trees. Mysteriously, it seemed that unseen creatures were adding weight to the thin ice causing it to instantly crumble. But exploring the possibilities with my friends and later my husband, it seems that as the temperature cooled and the slanting sun warmed the surface of the ice, frozen patches gave way to air pockets beneath them, left by receding waters.
I welcome, the altering states of ice, light, and awareness in the winter months ahead, and hope that everyone will be blessed in this new year with seeing the familiar in entirely new and inspiring ways.