It was so cold and windy overnight that the "feel like" temperature was somewhere south of Antarctic, but, for the record, the official reading here at the turnaround point at daybreak was six... the first time this season it's been in the single digits. While the cats showed no sign of wanting to brave the day—hanging around the wood stove was perfectly fine by the felines, thank you very much—I wanted to see what the weather had wrought on the stream behind the house. It had clearly lost its voice and when I arrived to look for signs of life in the occasional dusting of snow that had arrived courtesy of the cold front, I spotted no tracks at all. In places where the gale had blown the frozen surface clean, the main object of interest was a series of bubbles, some entire, some burst, and all locked in place. With warming in the forecast, the abstract won't last, so I made sure to record nature's artistry... until incipient frostbite in my exposed shutter-release finger mandated a return to warmth.