Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Taken in Hamilton, Ontario, on James Street South.
My interest in snow and ice never seems to abate, even after the many winters I've now spent in Canada. Huge icicles are sort of riveting in the same way as large boulders balanced precariously. There's a fascination, almost a morbid one, stemming from the possible peril of the icicle dropping (on someone), or from the boulder somehow coming unstuck and clobbering everything in its path. The difference between those examples being the eerie (because dangerous, yet delicate?) beauty of ice, I think.