That, and I need new gloves.

I decided to walk down to The Lake. I hadn't been in a while. Also, I figured with the weather being temperamental, a lucky cold snap might offer me the chance of seeing some hapless ducks being frozen to the pond.
The thing about The Lake is that I run the risk of two dangers. The first is running into people I know but certainly do not want to talk with. The second is running into strangers who desperately want to talk with me. (The most memorable of the latter was an asian woman named Tam and her chihuahua, Duchess. Tam had commandeered the other half of my bench, proclaimed that only "sad young people" sit and look at water, and insisted on--with no success--ferreting out my "story". I should have told her about the ducks, but alas, it was summer, and I probably would have given the poor lady serious regrets about dumping little Duchess into my lap.).
These thoughts in mind, I took my chances yesterday, intent on a little observation and inspiration. You can learn a lot from watching people and watching birds. But there were no people and no birds. Only flat sky, black thorns, and crisscrossing tracks on a frozen Lake. And me, toes numbing, trying to coax a vision of a Dutch peasant out of nothing and onto the ice, but discovering that all fauna (real and imagined) are in hiding on early evenings in winter. Good to know for the future.