I don't know why I haven't visited the pond since last summer. I honestly didn't think I could make it into the parking lot when I realized that the small amount of snow we've had this winter wouldn't keep me from driving right up to the water's edge. So I grabbed my camera and my husband, and we went to take a look.
The day was bright and clear and just warm enough when you stood in the sun you didn't mind the occasional gust of wind. I stood looking out over the pond thinking about all of the times we've spent splashing in the water and swimming to and from the dock. And that's when I heard what sounded like whales crying in the distance.
After assuring me that it wasn't whales, or even the Loch Ness Monster, my dear husband told me that that's what melting ice sounds like. Who knew? I wasn't allowed to skate on open water as a child (my Mother said that's what flooded bogs were for—much safer than a pond) and since the piles of snow are usually too high to maneuver a 4-wheel drive into the pond's lot, I remained ignorant of another one of nature's secrets.
After we listened for a while, my, I'm-never-too-old-to-try-something husband decided to test his weight on the melting ice. Soon he was throwing rocks. I finally joined in by stomping on the ice jammed up between the boat ramp and the rocks on the shore. There we were, two middle-aged kids on a cold February Sunday afternoon, just hanging out.
Is there a better way to spend an afternoon? Maybe next time we'll actually bring the kids along.