Our morning hike usually includes a walk around the lake. It is metaphorically the womb of Penuel Ridge. Mocha knows the trail well and usually runs ahead of me, stopping occasionally to look back to make sure I'm still there.
This morning, as I stepped off of the trail and walked across the dam, I noticed her at the water's edge, looking quite puzzled. As my eyes took in the scene, I realized her dilemma...the entire surface of the lake had frozen over during the night.
We stood for a long time, gazing out over the blanket holding the lake captive, studying the ice patterns and marveling at how a leaf could somehow fall and freeze in place vertically as it touched the water...as if someone had hit Mother Nature's pause button.
A profound silence permeated the air...as if the ice magnified the quiet stillness of a spring fed lake in bondage. I tapped the toe of my boot on the ice and the entire lake made a sound...a splintering, grinding, groaning noise that made me jump!
It's supposed to warm up today, so I imagine by tomorrow morning, the lake will again be unbound. It's no matter...for now I understand that even the soft beating of a dragonfly's wings in summer is a force felt throughout.