grey ice on the pond

grey ice on the pond

still firm enough for two dogs

to take a shortcut

Light rain all day, dissolving the remnants of snow, softening the ice on the ponds. Coming home, I'm surprised to see two black and white farm dogs out for a jaunt across Osage Pond, taking a shortcut from the barn to the road. 
          Reminds me of the time in my youth when I walked all the way across Lake Harriet, a lake in the middle of Minneapolis, Minnesota. We lived right by the lake and I'd walked or biked around it many times, swam and even ice skated along the edge. I'd seen ice boats and ice fishermen out on the frozen lake and one day I decided to see what it was like out there. Of course, it was foolish to venture that far out all alone.
          In the middle of the lake, the wind had swept the snow off the ice, which gleamed like obsidian. When I got to the other side, my face was so windburned that I decided to walk the long way around to get back home. 
          Later that day my father remarked that the lake must be melting because you could see open water out in the middle. I started to say, no, that's just bare ice, but I didn't dare let him know how I knew. That's one of the few times I've ever done anything really risky, and it gave me just a tiny glimpse of what it feels like to be a daredevil.