Good morning good folks:

Ice out on the river behind our house is always a big deal. This year’s big change in the White River that gurgles behind our house took its time.

As my husband and I checked out the situation through the windows that overlook the water, the free water streams pushing against the ice muscled their way over, under, around and through the frozen stuff. The visible parts widened over the course of the day, chuckling in our 50-degree weather and sunshine.

But the ice was still intact as the sun went down.

However, our first glance under the rising sun was a totally different landscape. All the ice broke up overnight (it almost always happens in the dark) but the pieces were jammed in place. I always figure, under these circumstances, that somewhere at the mouth of the Connecticut River where it empties into the Atlantic, there’s one smallish piece of ice that functions like a keystone, keeping that jam in place.

But there’s one immutable law of nature—ice always melts. It is the nature of water. And when that pieces heaves a big sigh and joins the ocean, well the chain reaction will be felt all the way up in Vermont and further north. Then the rush outta here will be swift.

There’s a metaphor tucked in there. I’m sure you will see it.