My sister and I took a walk on Lake Harriet at dusk recently. And yes, I mean ON Lake Harriet. Despite the recent warming spell, the ice was still over a foot thick and safe to walk on.
We walked toward the Minneapolis skyline and bandshell. Icefishers were on the ice and in shanties, their boots crunching on the snow, voices echoing over the expanse of ice.
|Downtown Minneapolis catching the sunset.|
We stood in the middle of the lake and listened to the silence. It was peaceful and beautiful, and broken by a strange sound. It was a pinging sound that started on one side of the lake and made its way around the shore, a high-pitched twinge. We heard it again in a few minutes, and then again. Finally we realized that it was the ice shifting, as it was dusk and the ice was re-freezing after a sunny day.
It was eerie and amazing at the same time. We both thought of my dad, and of how he loved Lake Superior with its alternating strength and stillness. Kristi recounted going to the shore of Lake Superior with my dad after my grandfather passed away 20 years previous, to see and hear the ice shivering between solid ice and open water.
We began to walk off the ice, and stopped for one last look around, hoping for one last ice boom. The final one came from under our feet. It sounded like a glass breaking in slow motion, following by the pinging sound that reverberated around the lake.
It was wonderful to take in the sights and sounds of the lake in the heart of the city.