The Roof of the Lake

Despite being frozen solid, with ice nearly two feet thick in places, White Bear Lake was talking to us. Every few seconds, a series of deep, muffled vibrations echoed beneath our feet like transmissions from a lost world: Dew-dew-dew-dew-dew-dew-dew-dew … dew-dew-dew-dew-dew-dew-dew-dew.

“What do you think it’s trying to say?” I asked my 12-year-old son, my partner on that frigid January afternoon. But he was too busy running and sliding across the ice to answer. I tried to remember what I knew about the language of the winter lake—something about the expansion and contraction of the ice causing those otherworldly creaks and knocks.

A few other sensory details stood out that day: The sharp winter wind on our cheeks. The perfume of wood smoke in our noses. The abstract patterns drawn by the lake ice. It was a rare treat to traverse a snow-free lake, the result of a recent thaw-freeze cycle. It reminded me of a David Berman poem in which the late writer described a blanket of ice as “the roof of the lake.”

This annual Sense of Place issue is dedicated to experiences like the one described above. Let’s call them moments in Minnesota’s outdoors that inspire reflection. Two of the photo essays found herein, Richard Hamilton Smith’s collection of lake ice images and Mitch Kezar’s ice fishing shots, remind me of my cold hike on White Bear Lake. Other stories, like Kitty Shea’s lovely essay about her father’s fishing boats, examine how family dynamics can color one’s relationship with nature.

I took a video of my son on that chilly day on White Bear. Near the end of the short clip, he squats down and points to a section of ice that has a jagged, speckled pattern. It almost looks like a big hunk of dark granite. “Look at that,” he says. “That is cool.” His words sum up the mission statement of this Sense of Place edition. Look at all Minnesota has to offer, says this collection of essays. Isn’t it cool!?