Salt ice.When I was a child, there were some years that the ice extended out for miles, people would drive cars over it. (and there are--perhaps apocryphal--tales of people driving clear across to Connecticut back in the '20's and '30's...)
The ice folds in some spots, slowly, and cracks in others where the strain is too great, and in some spots, further out where the water is deeper and the ice is thinner , it rolls over the waves but somehow maintains at a fixed point...
I've been thinking a lot this past weekend about the landscape of my life, and I know that there's an appropriate metaphor in there, but I'm too tired to draw it out.
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