The ice has turned somber and silent in -20°C.
I’ve been getting to know the winter sea in a completely new way in the year I’ve lived here, in the small cottage by the shore.
On warmer days and windy nights when the seasurface rises or falls, the ice is downright chatty. It moans and howls so loudly that the first time I heard it I thought the there was a pack of wolves surrounding the house. When the sun shines on thin November ice, it gurgles and sighs in pleasure.
These -20°C days are such a rare occurrence now that I’d all but forgotten about the traintrack rumble that comments on the hares’ routes and replies in a ponderous tone to the crow that cries at the suddenly so bright sun. And does not reply when I ask of sunberries.
Mayu's Teapot 