Ice therapy

 
 

There was nothing I loved more than stepping out of the car and immediately, unmistakably, hearing the ice singing away. It wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t infrequent. It was a constant singing. I could barely contain my excitement, and I mean really barely keeping it together. I exclaimed to guests about the ice, knowing full well we weren’t on a singing ice chase and that nothing I could say would express how in love with this I was and how special the sound was to me. But it was beautiful and worth noticing.

 

“It’s completely quiet out here when the ice does stop.”

 
 

The ice just sang and sang and sang. It was our background to the night, one of clear skies until late after the aurora faded and it was time to pack up anyway.

The night of aurora was gorgeous, shifting gradually from the northern horizon to appear more overhead until curtains danced. It was a beautiful, beautiful night by all accounts, and one that made me realize how much I miss hearing the ice more than I already do,

 
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The southern Yukon winter