as only minnesota could befrozen , yet with life scurrying all over it and under it : petrifiedhe walks aware of those who live under it , not only the plants sleeping and the seeds anticipating but the pioneers dead and the indians dead and whomever was here before the indians ... frank sees clearly , minnesota is anticipation , expectation , a frozenness which is somnolence , a waiting : for a return , a revivification , more than spring or springs gushing from melted snowit is this he is knowing as he stops at the lakes edge , undefined edge for when does the land end and the ice begin ?