The temperature was 8 degrees below zero, or possibly 6, but at that point, how much difference would 2 degrees make? I lumbered across the snow toward the river and within minutes my face hurt, but I stayed and watched the seagulls and waited for eagles. (We saw three yesterday or possibly four, depending on whether we saw the same juvenile twice.) The river is frozen for long stretches but here the water tumbles over the dam and tosses up a fine mist to frost the trees and the road and my car and my glasses.
It's cold out--really cold. I watch the seagulls, enjoy the sunrise. My cheeks hurt and my eyes water. I look upstream and then back down, watch the seagulls, admire the lily-pad shapes of floating ice chunks. The cold seeps up through layers of boot and wool. I scan the treetops in search of the pair of eagles we saw yesterday perched just over there. My toes start to scream.
I turn away toward the car, take off my gloves so I can get the lens cap back on and start putting everything away, and suddenly there it is again, a mature bald eagle swooping above the water and disappearing into the mist before I can grab the camera.
Eagle, river, rising mist--I grasp the majestic image in my mind, holding it close until it fades into the cold and fog.