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February 24 we were under a polar vortex. It was windy, cold and dry. The trees creaked, the ground clinked, the boards on the deck cracked underfoot. The sky was very bright blue, and looking at it was like meeting an unfriendly gaze. Everything felt thin and sharp and fragile. There was no softness in the world.
So I was surprised, driving past the tiny beach down the hill from our house, to see what looked like snow heaped on the beach, fifteen centimeters deep in places.
It was frozen sea foam! Never seen that before. Up close, it looked like piles of thin flat ice chunks, like a hoard of glass pennies.
The tide was out, but I wish I had heard what sort of noise the sea made splashing against the piles. Slithery, maybe? Jingly? Both?
So I was surprised, driving past the tiny beach down the hill from our house, to see what looked like snow heaped on the beach, fifteen centimeters deep in places.
It was frozen sea foam! Never seen that before. Up close, it looked like piles of thin flat ice chunks, like a hoard of glass pennies.
The tide was out, but I wish I had heard what sort of noise the sea made splashing against the piles. Slithery, maybe? Jingly? Both?
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Last week on my FB feed, someone posted a video of waves lapping at the shore of a lake, that had frozen over but was now just filled with chunks of ice floating on the top. The sounds of the ice bits smashing against each other was like glass windchimes ringing.
It wasn't this video - but something like it - youtube link
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I may have seen something similar on the shore of Lake Michigan once, but I don't remember the details well enough.
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