Not far from Edgcumbe Road, where pines offer their shade and scent, I meet a craggy snowbank that a homeowner failed to shovel early, when it was soft and new. My Pac boot catches in a black hole unseen, carved by runoff or snowplow I don’t know. In the crevasse, my ankle twists. I fall on hard crystal—not swearing, because I’m a mother and I can hold my tongue. I stare into ice as unknowable as the Apostle Islands Sea Caves, four hours away, where I will not go this winter if this is broken, and not just sprained.
Kathryn Ganfield is a nature writer and essayist in the river town of St. Paul, Minnesota. Find Kathryn on Twitter @KTGanfield.