March 28

On March 28th, I dragged my kayak out of the barn, hoisted it onto my little red car, and headed to the lake.

Most of the lake was moist. You know, wet.
But small, inconsequential strips of it were....

-um. well, ice.
It looked like warm ice, though. Not frigid in any sense of the word.

These geese are back from their southern condos, and this warm, slushy, inconsequential ice didn't seem to ruffle their feathers.

Why should it ruffle mine?

By the way, that is a BARE FOOT resting upon a KAYAK in 62 degree afternoon sun on a MOSTLY LIQUID LAKE in Northern New York.