As always, the river heralds the season's progress

Winter marches apace here in central Maine, as a recent walk alongside the Kennebec River made clear.

A ribbon of ice, thin but continuous, hugs the shoreline. Just beyond it, large, jagged ice floes coast downstream with the current. There's still plenty of open water, but probably not for long. With the passage of time, the ice will work its way toward the center of the river and the channel will shrink ever smaller, until it disappears.

Several years ago in midwinter, my wife Liz and I spotted a fox sauntering across the frozen river, which got me to wondering how it knew that it was safe to do so. Perhaps the fox just took a chance, and happened to make its crossing when the ice was thick enough. Or maybe this symbol of cunning has some way of gauging such things that is beyond our understanding. Humans are not as advanced, or animals as deficient, as we, in our arrogance, tend to assume.