Reaching the waters edge, she looked out upon the frozen surface. In the still frigid air this pristine world seemed lifeless. But she knew it only appeared that way. Under the ice, life carried on. A frozen, almost motionless shell that actually protects the vigor beneath. She knew life was never truly gone. Frozen, preserved, pressed down beneath, it was hidden for a season.
She breathed in the cold air and looked around. Frozen can actually be beautiful. The crystalline encasement of every minute detail. Leaves and branches, every grass blade magnified, like a thousand jewels sparkling beneath her feet. Hanging from every tree, crystal chandeliers. More rare than swavorsky crystals, theses jewels would soon be gone. Precious, delicate and then, a memory.
Looking down again to the lake, there stands a leaf upon the glassy surface, caught in a moment of vertical movement. Take warning, for the leaf scarcely knew this action would be the one preserved.
But what of the life below? Some dormant, some vigorous, no reproduction, but still life survives. Do they curse the cold or accept this season as part of life?
How much light passed through to remind them of a warmer season to come? At places on the pond seems almost translucent. Does the life below gather and jockey for a place to peer out the window? Do they even care what goes on above?
Delores laughs at herself, pondering such foolish things. But this did give her hope. Maybe her cold dormant season would soon be over. Only four more years and she would be old enough to marry without her parents permission.
She breathed in the cold air and looked around. Frozen can actually be beautiful. The crystalline encasement of every minute detail. Leaves and branches, every grass blade magnified, like a thousand jewels sparkling beneath her feet. Hanging from every tree, crystal chandeliers. More rare than swavorsky crystals, theses jewels would soon be gone. Precious, delicate and then, a memory.
Looking down again to the lake, there stands a leaf upon the glassy surface, caught in a moment of vertical movement. Take warning, for the leaf scarcely knew this action would be the one preserved.
But what of the life below? Some dormant, some vigorous, no reproduction, but still life survives. Do they curse the cold or accept this season as part of life?
How much light passed through to remind them of a warmer season to come? At places on the pond seems almost translucent. Does the life below gather and jockey for a place to peer out the window? Do they even care what goes on above?
Delores laughs at herself, pondering such foolish things. But this did give her hope. Maybe her cold dormant season would soon be over. Only four more years and she would be old enough to marry without her parents permission.
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