December 11, 2020

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As I sat in the complete silence of the morning communion, it was so quiet I could hear the scraping sound of a small vole burrowing a new route just beneath the snow along the rivers edge and the water gently lapping under the narrow shelf of new ice that formed overnight. Then, suddenly behind me, a CRACK! And an instant later a heavy canon boomed. The sound swept across the lake like a lightning bolt, its deep bass drums echoing back and forth from shoreline to shoreline, sending ripples across the open water on the river, the perched eagle above me into flight and the hairs on my neck riveted to full attention. The ice had something really important to say and I was so thankful I was there to hear it.