In a couple of months this water will be completely frozen over. People will drive their cars on it and have races across the ice, sliding and spinning out of control. It will be a time for daring and risk-taking, a time I will comfortably watch from the sidelines. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Everything will be frozen. The severity of each season in Maine is really quite striking.
|Moments. Fleeting moments.|
For now, we enjoy the crisp cool days of fall, and we still have a brilliant afternoon sun. The river acts as though it never knew the meaning of the word “frozen.” Those foolish water droplets. But the plant life on the shore is wiser. Already it steels itself against the inevitable. The insects are mostly hidden or dead now, and the birds have flown south.
We’ll go to sleep one day in fall and wake up the next day in winter. That’s how it happens here. Transitions are sharp and cruel. Then I will look at this photo and say, “Impossible!”