Reading water is almost easy when it is frozen.

Okanagan Lake is a large body of water, 351 square kilometres of it, in fact. To put that in perspective, here are some numbers to play with:

Definitely big enough to be a country, at any rate. Several countries, even! When an arm of it freezes, it does what water does, and expands, resulting in explosive pressure cracks.

The waves out on the open water, out in the direction of St. Kitts… What’s that, you say? Yes, St. Kitts.

Well, like I said, the waves keep rolling in, slip under a kilometre of ice, and well up through the cracks.

They’re all in a similar language, but, whoa, they don’t all say the same thing.

At all.

But I’m convinced this is ordered information that a mathematician could easily read. I bet that people who live on the ice can read it too, both its history and its future.

What they’re reading is something only bodies can read, something which makes books, AI, smartphones, the works, seem so trivial.

I don’t know what its meaning is, but without it, life would be meaningless. Ain’t that so very fine!

Oh, Winter, bring it on!