Sunday was bitterly cold here in Mathews, but the sun was out in all her finery.
Her rays danced off the thin coat of shimmering ice on Queens Creek, and I spent a great deal of time just sitting on the dock, absorbing the quiet and admiring the light show.
This is a zoomed-in shot of one of the boats in our cove, and strangely enough there happened to be a big vulture/turkey buzzard/hawk/super-sized crow or some other large black bird perched right there on a dock post beside the workboat.
But with all there was to take in and absorb, the ice stole the show.
Back when I came along in the
Besides all the fun and entertainment a frozen creek provided us youngsters (click here for an ice skating story I'll never forget), there's one thing I'll always think of whenever I see ice on the creek.
When we had a big freeze, my father would go out--sometimes twice a day--to break the ice around each dock post. You see, when ice that thick freezes, it grips pretty tightly to the poles supporting the dock. That's all well and good until the tide comes in and pushes the ice--and the dock poles--up. And up some more. Until your dock is deformed. Next thing you know, you're having to hire someone to pound the poles back into the mud and rebuild your dock. This is definitely not a good thing. Definitely not.
In the 9 years since I've been back here, we've never had to worry about breaking the ice around dock poles because good, hard freezes just don't happen.
But every now and then we'll have a slight freeze like this weekend, and the memories of slipping and sliding on the ice with our feet stuffed in bread bags come flooding back.
And I wonder who came up with the brilliant idea of putting bread bags over one's socks, because everybody did it. At least around here.
What memories do you have of
In other news, as I write this it's way, way late at night, and I have not been able to focus on
By the way, it's not too late to submit an entry, seeing as I can't focus on
Pardon me while I prepare my acceptance speech for the