A skilled carver is working without gloves to form a figure out of an ice block. He moves his wooden tool at sharp angles, slicing away the dull sheen sheet by sheet. The ice is thick and it will take a lot of heat to melt it. Heat waves can do that but here the lake is known for its coldness, frogs leaving as soon as September comes. Carvers can spend the whole winter cutting a single image from the ice just to bring a frog or a white crane back into sight from the shoreline of the lake. The deepest parts are tinged with the light blue of a crystal. It is almost like seeing the lake inside out. When the carver finishes his figure, it is just about the end of winter. The lake ice starts to groan and splinter and recede like a maturing hairline. One water molecule splits into two, then two into four, and four into sixteen until the entire surface area comes apart. The frogs then stir, calling to each other.
