When I lived on a lake I always knew it was safe to ski across the ice when the neighbors started driving their trucks across it, setting up little ice fishing shanties, and running their snowmobiles in circles. I would cross country ski out to the center of the lake, chat for a few minutes, warm up in their little houses, admire their catch, and keep skiing to the other side, avoiding the part of the lake that was always thinner because of a natural spring.
In Colorado this kind of ice just doesn't happen along the front range so when we went to visit my grandma, who lives somewhere close to Canada, my dad, sister, sister's fiance, and I took a little stop to run around the river that flows through the little town. The light was perfect, the company was friendly, and we didn't fall in. My sister tagged all her instagram photographs #bonivercountry, and I can see how this might be the sort of weather that makes you go sit in a cabin and sing a lot of songs about relationships ending. It is beautiful, though, and the setting sun that lingers on the ice makes you feel quiet and still.
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