Saturday ride; On the ponds the ice is creeping out. Season's change, jetski kayak bowrunner past to snowmobile iceshack snowshoe future. The water molecules, used to dancing around each other now cling tight, rigid, unbending. Riding down Blueberry Hill, sand on the edges, sand in the middle, left foot down bank right, right foot down bank left, cold air pushing past the balaclava to bite my ears.