In a typical late-January, the surface of the Pawcatuck River in the slower spots upstream from the Potter Hill Dam would be frozen solid, and while it rarely sports ice thick enough to walk on... unless you're a mink on the prowl... the water should, at this time, have changed its free-flowing status. Not so. The calendar may tell us that we're very close to the heart of the "bleak midwinter," to quote a line from the famous Christina Rossetti poem and carol, but the local waters are definitely not "like a stone." Maybe that'll happen... maybe not. On this warm day, with the temps in the low 50s, the river, the sun, the shadows, and a gentle breeze have all conspired to craft a beautiful backlit scene. I'm savoring the gift and trying to make it last.