A thin layer of ice forms across a quiet pond caught between autumn and winter. Its shifting surface reflects the slow, patient rhythm of the northern landscape.
A half-frozen pond reveals the delicate stillness of a landscape caught between seasons
The half-frozen pond sat at the edge of the clearing, its surface caught between seasons—part mirror, part memory. Thin sheets of ice clung to the shoreline like fragile pages, each one holding the faint etchings of wind and passing animals. Beneath them, dark water stirred slowly, carrying the quiet breath of the land as it waited for winter to decide its next move.
There was something intimate about the way the pond shifted, never fully still, never fully surrendered to the cold. It held the soft tension of transition, a reminder that even the smallest places endure their own long negotiations with time. In that in-between state, the pond offered a glimpse of the world as it truly is: always changing, always remembering.
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