When I was little, I lived in the same house on Bainbridge that I am raising my daughter in now. I always told her of how the bay would freeze over sometimes in winter and a younger less wise version of myself would inch across the ice as far as I could on my belly until I heard cracking sounds. She is nine years old now, and so far each year that tale has been just that, until now. Obviously I'm not going to let her go out on that ice like I did (my wife always reminds me that it's miracle that I survived to adaulthood), but she saw the beauty of the snow accumulating on the ice, and heard the ominous cracking as sheets split over the receding tide. The ice was at lest a 1/2 inch thick, but that didn't stop some river otters from breaking through for a swim, and leaving their prints in the snow!
Happy Holidays Everyone!