Traveling ice that builds up on the bows of living organisms I didn’t see until just now, and I’m wondering now how trees got to be here. Certain species are moving. The North is warmer and they know and are moving. Closer to the warmth they go, but not the one here, covered in ice. It’s stuck, stoic, standing its ground. Water drawn up to dizzying heights, to each little branch until a thin paper-like sheet of living cells that turns sunlight into sugar receives exactly as much as it needs to do it’s work. Yes. We are extraordinary machines.