Tuesday, April 6, 2010

5 April, 1911

The dogs are doing week, with the exception of Deek.

The weather seems to be improving, with brilliant sun. Went out to check the ice. The new ice and the old ice slides against itself, and as it does so it creates the most remarkable sounds, a medley of high-pitched but tuneful notes—one might imagine small birds chirping in a wood. The ice sings, we say.

Click on this to listen to it:

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