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Message: <blockquote data-quote="halftwo" data-source="post: 1348853" data-attributes="member: 45720">Ice, inch-thick, creaks, cracks, but holds the press of boot. A slithery stride strikes coal-hard mud in jagged mounds across the path. My breath hangs out a white rag in pale blue air lit bright by a low December sun. The air creases in the cold, squeaks in the silence.The shattering panes of ice glitter-clatter in furrows where Snipe get up and call in the dazzle of the brittle sky. Among them one once invisible Jack snipe from underfoot at a foot distant risks the glare and the visibility. Soon back to disappear in the frozen field.Wheezes and clicks from hedges as thrushes and buntings whirl and resettle; frosty berries drops of blood on wet, black bark.  Etc.The other day I witnessed the melt of ice from trees - suddenly I was amid a rain storm on a clear day! I just remembered it now - quite something.</blockquote>