Cold.
I can't help but feel the cold as I drive across the familiar bridge and take in the rolling whitecaps on the lake.
I pull off the road and drive down to the shore.
As I open the car door the strong wind greets me with an unexpected musical sound. It is playing the masts of the nearby sailboats as though the sturdy tall masts were mere penny whistles.
I pause to listen then walk closer to the water to capture an image of the whitecaps. The water will soon grow quiet. The ice will form, calming these churning waters with a thick blanket of stillness.
I return to my car and embrace the luxury of the heater, grateful for the warmth.
Rw
