We went for a walk yesterday, but not north towards the hills as we usually do, but south. The Bay had pretty much broken up. The water was a deep slate blue, or maybe a purplish black.
Along the shore, wind had blown remaining circular ice floes towards the shore by a strong westerly wind. As the patches of ice approached the shores, they shattered into foot-long shards of ice-glass. The shards stood upright in the flows, bonded by an invisible glue of frozen water. We listened to the chiming of the falling crystals as they broke from the floes, and the tinkling as they nudged the shoreline.
At the spit of land where the Great Whale River meets Hudson Bay, a giant inukshuk, at least 12 feet tall has been erected, carefully cemented into place. Picnic tables were set up. It is a lovely place to watch the sunset, I’ve been told.
I also found a tiny fish, glinting in the sand. Greyish blue, with large black eyes, only about an inch long. It was freeze-dried and perfect.
There is life after all in these frozen waters.