The End of Ice

Ice is never really your friend. Ice is blasé. There are only so many ways to have fun with it, and after a week spent gazing into its cold, abysmal eyes, I feel I'm ready to move on to warmer things.

So this is goodbye. Deep down, I know we'll meet again, but from now on ice will get a chillier reception than it enjoyed before the magic melted into sorrowing dampness, and frostbitten toes. Already the shadows beyond the ice begin to brighten, as if to say, "Hey man, why not take off your shoes and have a romp through the greening pastures of Spring?"

But then the laughter begins, and I know it's all a cruel joke. It's January after all, not May, or even April. The suffering has only just begun, ice will be back with a vengeance, and I'll do the crying myself. What a fool I've been.

So this is hello. Hello to numbing particles of water gone terribly wrong. Hello to the frozen wasteland of Winter. Hello darkness. Hello tears.

I'm sorry, but I can't continue. One of the heat lamps in the dresser drawer I use as an office has just gone out, so I must go and search for a suitable replacement. I believe the snowmobile has enough petrol to get me to the nearest outpost, so there shouldn't be any need for the sled dogs this time.

Will advise upon my return.



  1. Love this! I'm tempted to say you're in your "element."

  2. Thanks, Craig. I had fun with it this week, although I'm not kidding when I say I've had enough of the ice for a while.

  3. Forgot to mention ... "blasé" is such a good, cold word. I guess the "bl" suggests "blizzard," "blast," and "blustery."

  4. Made me melt.

    A question, though:

    water is to ice like what is to a mirror?

  5. Very cold indeed. I couldn't resist it.

  6. Um . . . the Sandman?