|When snow falls in a forest, can anybody hear?|
The river has finally frozen over.
Lakes in Muskoka have been frozen for ages and most have a foot or more of good ice. The river, as sluggish as it may seem in July, moves along at a fancy enough clip to keep the ice at bay until winter has its hooks well into January.
It starts freezing at the edges, in the corners, furtively, where the current isn't as strong. Then it sneaks into the main stream, one crystal at a time, until the river succumbs to bitter temperatures and the ice seals it like a tomb.
Last weekend I thought about fishing off the dock, just for something to do. People around here spend at lot of time and energy dragging fish shacks onto the lake, when we could just cast a line into open water. I mentioned the idea to Dave and he was game but we couldn't at the time because we were going somewhere and we were busy and life just got in the way.
The other day I realized the river had frozen over.
Another missed opportunity.
Another moment gone.