Floating Ice, Tangled Trees

This giant puddle forms in a sunken spot in the sidewalk with each long thaw. For years, on route to university, I skirted along its edge, skated along its frozen top, or, occasionally splashed through its centre.

On my way to make pictures one day, I was stopped by the reflections of the street trees, softly lit by the sinking sun and holding distant promises of another long summer. The ice was breaking up – everywhere soon would be running water, clumsy sprouts of new grass, and the delicious smell of warming air.

This was one of the last photographs I made in our neighbourhood before Terri and I moved away. It's fitting to me that it is one of reduction, of awakening, and of warm, Western light.