Important to look up when your walking on a frozen sea.

What this has to do with the northern lights is beyond me!

As always, just when you need it, you left it at home, no not the dog, but the camera. Tonight, even though the temperature is nudging minus twenty four, Saspan needed a walk. So donning my scooter overall and flash light off we set. Crunching up the snow covered road, each footfall sounding like a paper being torn in two or a bite of a Granny Smith. The moon is hiding, so the night was dark, but the great thing about walking with your thoughts and your dog is that any bears or wayward muggers are as scared as us.

I left my lunch box somewhere

Once in the woods and off the leash, Såspan stayed close. I switched off the lamp, because after five seconds you see just as well anyway. Out onto the scooter track, where the snow is compacted and if you wish you could walk to Finland. I looked up and saw the plough and then as if by natures magic theatre a green hue, then stronger a beam as if a far off space craft gad switched on its headlights. The northern lights erupted in a majestic dance. Like watching a wake of a ship at night and the phosphorescence dancing in the water, here the dance was high in the night sky,  forming rails and lines and then morphing into a wild wave of energy. And me and the dog, small and insignificant, gazed up (well I did, the dog found a squirrel scent). It sort of put everything in its right perspectiveBack out of the forest and we walked across the sea. Now frozen and creaking and sighing. Each step felt like the last, through my mind ran thoughts of how long would you last in the water if the ice actually did break? One minute, two maybe. How would I get out again? Would the dog run off to raise the alarm?
And those sudden sounds as the ice creaks and settles, the craaaaaack and you heart jumps and pulse races.
Maybe the evening walk wasn't meditative, but sure as hell exiting. And the dog? Fast asleep on the sofa dreaming of that squirrel.