We spent our day purposefully loving each other. Playing games, taking mid-afternoon naps, laughing over how silly our kitty can be.
An hour before sunset, I grabbed the camera, and we headed down to Lake Michigan to take some shots of the snow and ice around the water. The air was so cold it felt sharp to breathe in-- like ice crystals stinging the back of your throat. And everytime we walked on the hardened snow, a circle would collapse around our foot. Not enough to let us sink, but enough to let us feel like giants creating an earthquake on the ground below.
The snow was covered with a sheen of ice making it appear untouched...antarctic...magical.
We kept walking and walking. Until we realized we weren't standing on snow-covered sand, but ice-covered waters. I slipped my arm back into Adam's and I scooted closer 'til we were in same step. We carefully maneuvered our way across cracks, around the rocks, and up the icy hill to the pier. Hand-in-hand, we witnessed the waves of the lake we've grown up with, the majesty of a setting sun-- setting differently every evening.