In the woodland, among unruly snow-dusted branches, an unexpected movement occurred. The movement was certainly that of a bird, but it was the bird itself that made the movement unexpected.
On the south side of Chicago, I walked across snow-covered sand on an icy lakeshore. The ice that had formed where water met beach lowly creaked as water moved underneath it. The winter day was cold, but, thankfully, there was a lack of wind whose harshness would have only been magnified by traveling across Lake Michigan.