The Dundas Marsh is frozen through, and covered in several inches of snow. A new platform from which to experience the open sky, and gain a new perspective on the shorelines.
Distance is deceptive when landmarks are lacking. How long will it take to reach the far shore?
The wind, which was at our backs before we turned to trudge back to the Desjardin's Trail, now presses steadily in our faces, and the sun is eclipsed by clouds, the return journey colder.
Over at Princess Point, the distant dark figures of skaters and hockey players silhouetted against the snow is out of time. They could be from a Frank Panabaker painting, and I love that they are there, connecting the city to winter in a tangible and unmediated way.
A cross country skier has left tracks, double lines on a map, connecting north and south shores with their travelling.
Earlier in the winter across the open expanse a friend shot pictures of a coyote eating a fresh killed deer on the ice. Blood, ice, snow. Life. Death.
The frozen marsh provides different kinds of opportunities. Like discovering a new friend, we see everything with eyes wide open, eager for a deeper connection.
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