We've been enjoying wonderfully warm weather, for March. The snow is in full retreat, remaining only in the snow banks and on the northern slopes. You can hike to the toboggan hill in sneakers, check out the emerging wildflowers, and then jump on the flying saucer and race down the hill, because that hill is in a gully, facing almost due north, and sheltered by trees. The snow will linger there.
The lake has been beginning to open up, with the ice-away on the neighbour's boathouse now pushing open water more than half-way across the narrow entrance to Bondi Bay. As the ice gets ready to leave, it darkens, filling with water and no longer reflecting light. Then it starts to break apart, the long ice crystals chiming as they strike together. The lake sings to welcome spring.
But -- there is always a but, isn't there? -- the old adage about March coming in like a lamb, going out like a lion still holds. This morning, it was 15 below. Frost on the grass. Ground iron hard. And the lake, rather than chiming in the spring thaw, was making ice. Long rumbling electronic pulses of sound rippled across the bay, as the ice hardened, pushing against more ice that was also hardening and expanding. It's a wonderful, alien sound -- but we're more thrilled when we hear it in February, when the lake is getting stronger.
If you want to recreate the sound of the lake, take a narrow strip of metal, and gently shake it up down while holding both ends. Be sure to wear a hat. It's a cold sound...
It has been cold. Our ice is nearly gone, although it freezes over night. Just a thin sheet, that breaks up in the day. Very strange!
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