Walking to Dyer Pond ahead of Sven, I felt like the icebreaker, crunching along, past broken branches, deeper and deeper into the forest. Footprints indicated other beings had gone before, both human and animal. Deer, surely, from the paw size, or perhaps coyote? There were straight lines, too. Ski tracks? The lines could also be evidence of all-terrain bikers, out on a joy ride. Puddles had frozen, here and there, so the path proved quite treacherous. Hugging the snowy edge, I proceeded with caution, from time to time flinging my arms out for balance, like a tightrope walker. Down by the pond, as evening descended, ice formed in crisscross lines, cracking the surface in a vise-like grip, freezing the western corner for this week of holidays. If I could wrap a big red ribbon around Dyer Pond and present it to blog readers as a present, I would. Instead, here are two photos from yesterday's excursion.
