“This morning I saw the country from my window a long time before sunrise, with nothing but the morning star, which looked very big.”
Vincent van Gogh
This evening I bundled up and stepped outside to look at the starry night sky. After a few days of fog and clouds it was refreshing to see the stars sparkle. The moon was bright, illuminating the surrounding mountains. It’s light was reflected by the snow on the ground, more so than during the shallow diffuse daylight we had for the last couple of days. The trees were covered with long frosty ice crystal, shimmering white against the deep blue night sky.
An amazing view…
There was no sound.
Suddenly, a loud sound around my feet, as if the earth is cracking, makes my heart jump. I am standing on ice, a frozen lake. The ice is contracting and expanding, cracking and freezing as the temperature changes.
It feels like a small earthquake, although this may be all in my head, standing alone at night in the middle of a noisy ice desert. It’s a bit unnerving.
Even the foxes that curiously observe me shudder when the ice creeks. For a moment I picture the ice opening up for a second and swallowing me alive. Gone…
This is not a horror movie.
It’s just ice expanding and contracting.
Amazing what a little solitude, darkness, and a sudden noise can do.
Slowly, I walk back to my safe retreat, to warm up my fingers and my nose.
Listening to the lake from the shore.
Looking across the lake from my window…