light snow on ice

Joshua Eldredge was a tall Ichebod thin man whose nose reminded people of a formidable fish hook. His eyes were watery blue, always spouting tears, as if he were forever walking into the teeth of a bitter wind. In winters he cut ice for a living. With a long saw he carved the two-foot thick frozen pond water into blocks that were blue and perfect. With big tongs he slid the cubes onto a horse cart and clopped to the pier where the blocks were put into the holds of sleek schooners. In the winter of 1889 he kept one block in his shed, not daring to deliver it, frozen himself with inability to reveal his discovery. In February of that year he pulled a block of ice from the pond and shivered. Perfectly encased, like an insect in amber, was Howard Swett's little girl who had gone missing in early winter. They had searched for three days, then the first storm buried the town in a three foot blanket of fresh snow.

(I will now accompany my photos with short, short stories. A new year, a new idea, a new 365. Let me know what you think.)