White craters and moguls* overlaid the lake early this
morning to resemble the surface of the moon. The sun cast shadows across
the frozen expanse, intensifying visual dynamics: ripples, hills, basins, clean
sweeps, sculpted cliffs.
I had no desire to brave the elements and explore this austere, if alluring, wilderness. However, even
as I proclaimed my intentions out loud - “You won’t catch me going out there!”
- I noticed a few brave souls
tromping across the ice near the opposite shoreline.
By zooming in my camera lens, I effectively documented their
Lewis and Clark expedition into the lunar-like backcountry. Perhaps they were hardy fishermen, I reasoned. Or maybe they’d simply pursued the occupation
of exploring a pristine environment far away from bedazzling technology,
leftover holiday candy, and other consuming, potentially destructive, attractions. If that were the case, I envied their
objective. Perhaps in the process
of investigating moguls and valleys they might also reconnoiter with some forgotten
or ignored, but authentic, part of themselves.
*In Scandinavia’s medieval period, Norsemen named mounds and
of snow “mugl,” meaning “little heap.”
From this comes our word “mogul,” used most commonly to describe a bump of snow on a
ski slope.
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