Yesterday was gorgeous, warm, sunny – finally. My parents were visiting and we all went for a walk around our nearby lake. I’ll take just a moment to mention that much of my love of Minneapolis centers around the lakes. The land around all of the lakes is public land, so it’s all available for beautiful walks like yesterday’s. “Our” lake (I consider it ours because it’s the closest to us) is nearly 2 miles around, has beaches for swimming, a band shell for public concerts, but best of all, feels secluded despite the fact that we are in the city, and you can see the downtown skyline, only a few miles away, from one of the shores.
It was warm enough to wear short sleeves and no jacket. Almost warm enough for shorts. But as we walked around the lake, we saw ice still collected in some areas where the wind had blown it, and where it was still shaded by the trees. Then my dad said, “listen. Listen to the ice clinking.” As we’re in the city, it isn’t silent very often. Though it’s muffled by trees, there’s the noise of cars driving around the lake, the airplanes above, and of course, the conversations of all the people walking by. But in those moments of quiet, you could hear a light clinking from the ice. It sounded like a cross between wooden wind chimes and a burbling brook. It was among the most beautiful natural sounds I’ve heard. And so fleeting. It’s supposed to storm tonight, which will probably melt the last of the ice. It will probably be another year before I hear that sound again.