Run, slide, repeat.
That’s what I and the otters did last week, I on my skis, they out on the ice, each in our own way celebrating the return of glorious winter to the northwoods. That early November snow was some of the finest I’ve ever been privileged to make a trail through, and judging from their antics across the lake, perhaps the ice was, too? Anyway, we certainly seemed to be agreed on the idea that all this cold stuff was meant to be enjoyed!
Then, as the sun lowered on the horizon, they’d run off in a companionable row, as you see them above, straight into their cozy den, and I’d swish my way back to my warm little house to wrap my cold fingers around a hot mug and sip steaming sweetness. 
Ah, winter with all your juxtapositions of icy beauty and cozy routines—how glad I and my sleek fun-loving neighbors are to welcome you back!
And speaking of fun, thank you to each one of you who played along in my little guessing game a couple posts back! In case you forgot or missed the post, I asked people to guess the book of the Bible where the “psalm” I used in the post was found, as well as which photo was taken in the city rather than the country.
The correct answers were: 1) the book of Daniel (2:19-23, if you want to look it up!) and 2) the first photo of bright red snake root vines. Unfortunately, nobody quite managed to guess both correctly, so I shall have to reserve my promised prizes for a later date! (So if you’re terribly disappointed about that, I’m sorry, but stay tuned for another chance!)
If nothing else, it was just fun for me to see who actually reads my blog. And, by the way, that goes for every time someone takes the time to comment, whether here or on Facebook. It’s a tiny bit of thoughtful encouragement that always makes my day, and I’m grateful!
“A man has joy in an apt answer, And how delightful is a timely word!” (Proverbs 15:23)
The night was bright with a million stars, each one pulsating distinct and three-dimensional against deep black velvet of the sky. The aurora was dancing low but visible on the horizon. Across the lake, a monkey owl laughed, and in the distant forest echoed the drum roll of a grouse. Just above the treetops, a slender waxing crescent of reflected sunlight rimmed the lower curve of dark round moon. It dangled, then dropped out of sight. One meteorite fell, and then another. It was a good night to go walking without a flashlight, and so we did.
The otters had been playing not on but in the ice while the northern lights rippled softly green, enjoying the effects of the steadily aging and honeycombing lake ice. I didn’t realize how rotten the ice was until I stood on the shore and watched their game for a good hour. They were literally running all over the lake breaking holes in all the thin places and diving in and out of them, which explained the mysterious tinkling and shattering sounds of the previous night.
The ice is in.
Today, all was still and silent.
It was possibly the most gloriously beautiful November day we’ve had yet—and if the playful antics I observed this morning are any evidence, apparently the otters knew it, too.
Rejoicing Hills 