The Columnist Manifesto

Yesterday around dusk, we heard squawking overhead.



Flight after flight of Canadian Geese swooped overhead, veering downward, in the direction of Our Lake.



We ran the block and a half from our house to Our Lake, and saw them landing on a large, glassy patch -- perhaps a mix of open water and wet, thin ice.





More flights kept landing.





The weather has been wishy washy, getting up over freezing enough to make us nervous about going on the lakes. But that's the function of the ice fishermen, or, here, just a group of kids (making a fire!) -- they're like the canary in the mine, letting us know it's safe, more or less.



A neighbor cleared away some snow, probably with a snow-blower, to make a small skating rink.



B checked it out.