ON MY WALK TODAY I NOTICED HUNDREDS of ice shards bobbing in the lake. I assumed gale force winds from the day before had released them from the frozen shoreline and sent them to my end of the lake. The largest was only three feet in diameter. They were scattered about the unfrozen water like small icebergs and appeared as if each had its own source of light.
There was little evidence of the sun, a low ceiling of dark clouds dulled its presence. The water was now gunmetal gray merely a reflection of the darkened sky. The syrupy water was moving in slow-motion caused by the bitter cold that settled in. The air was finally calm.
I let my imagination run free as I continued my morning walk. This happens to me quite regularly. The lake had taken on a new persona. Thoughts of the Titanic from over a century ago entered my head. All around me I began imagining corpses floating next to the ice shards as if a scene from the famous movie.
I could hear the guttural sound of Celtic music out on the lake as the rescuers used spotlights to search for survivors. Death had come to Jack. Rose was barely alive. These images seemed so real this late December. I was thankful not to be floating in the lake or for that matter a passenger on the Titanic. I know cold and icy water can mean imminent death to any poor soul.