One of a series of posts documenting the seasonal changes of a prairie marsh in 2016.
Six degrees is not a lot of degrees. I love the drama of going somewhere when it’s cold, and not just cold but profoundly so. Negative wind chill; a triumph to be outside.
I like to build and see evidence of my existence.
By now the water is ice.
There’s a superficial film of snow that proves it.
One can take either path. No one cares when it’s cold.
Here’s the whole set.