Canada geese poke around on the ground oblivious to a woman carved in ice that has appeared on a patch of grass near my gym. On First Night, ice sculptures draw crowds to the Boston Common, but this is the middle of February in Watertown, and I can’t imagine who sculpted her and why.
I’m looking around for people, because a random ice princess appearance is something to mull over with your neighbors, even if her face is slowly dripping and disappearing thanks to the sun. But I’m alone, and I wonder if the block of ice really exists or if this is the first step to Crazy Town. I take a picture, just to make sure.