Never the same river

[muckefuck]

If I were doing a photo-a-day challenge, I know my subject would be the Lake. Every day that I ride the shuttle to work, I have a chance to study it for a couple minutes at the spot where Sheridan Road slithers between Calvary Cemetery and shore. Whatever I'm reading, I put down. The face of the waters is never the same from day to day. This is never more true than in the winter. Ice forms, piles up on land, thaws, cracks, collects, refreezes, melts again; the apparent shoreline can change by several metres in twenty-four hours.

Last week, it was nearly bare of ice. By Friday, small chunks had collected in the lees of the breakwaters. Today those pieces were welded together by Saturday's temperature drop. By this time tomorrow, they'll be buried beneath a new layer of snow and it will be impossible to distinguish terra firma from the ice shelf. Or will the predicted nor'easter pile spray up into fantastic formations? I won't know for sure until the bus passes by again.

Comments

the lake...

[(Anonymous)]

It's such a lovely thing, our lake. I look at the river every day on the way to work, which soothes, but it's not the same. My mother has her easy chair right by the windows, so she can see the lake every morning with her book and tea. Gwyn