My dad sent me these pictures he took a couple weeks ago at the edge of the Red River in Fargo. This “ice artistry” was sculpted by freezing temperatures at the waters crest and and then carefully installed in a gallery of trees as the water slowly receded. Wish I could have been there while the show was up.
I had never been to Mt. Auburn Cemetery in the winter until I biked there this afternoon on a sunny, 30-degree day. Mt. Auburn became such a regular part of my life last year and it seemed like a shame to experience it in every season but this one. I didn’t know what to expect and at first I didn’t quite know what to look for. At first I began to pay attention to the transparency around me, the perspective that comes with seeing through through things, especially as the sun is approaching the horizon and casting shadows through the trees. I made my way to Consecration Dell to see what state the shallow pool was in, but with a thin covering of snow, there wasn’t much to look at. So I hiked up the hill to overlook to see what the view of Boston was like. It was pleasant, but I wasn’t finding anything in particular that caught my attention and I began to wonder if I would end this visit without any surprises. I wandered my way back down the hill to the ponds I normally stroll by on my back to the gate, and here again the snow