No, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve I took the 1.2 mile walk around Beebee Lake, wearing Yacktracs for the icy paths, after a series of very cold days.
Winter bites my cheeks as I stand on Sackett Foot Bridge. My breath mingles with the crisp air, visible for a moment before vanishing into the vastness above Werly Island. The lens of my iPhone 7—a simple tool in this moment—becomes the conduit for my awe, framing the stillness of Beebee Lake on this Christmas Eve of 2019.
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Below me, the lake, usually a liquid mirror reflecting the sky and life around it, lies dormant under a thick skin of ice. My eyes trace the intricate patterns of cracks sprawling across its surface, each a delicate record of the freezing and thawing whispers of winter. The ice bears the weight of quiet stories, stories of transformation from water to a solid state, a natural alchemy that has never ceased to hold my wonder.
I can barely hear Fall Creek’s steady murmur, now muted beneath the ice. It’s hard to believe that such a gentle stream has carved out this landscape, shaping Werly Island over countless years, its persistent flow a testament to the passage of time—constant, yet ever-changing. The creek has seen glaciers come and go, has witnessed the birth of this prestigious university, and flows beneath my feet.
Expressed through the camera, the juxtaposition between nature’s serene pause and the historic buildings of Cornell University lining the horizon strikes me. The university, with its noble towers and the pursuit of knowledge contained within its walls, stands as a monument to human achievement. Yet here, in the silence of the lake’s winter sleep, it feels like a respectful nod to the grandeur of nature that cradles it.
The bare trees around me, their limbs reaching out to the heavens, are like the nerve endings of the Earth, stark against the soft glow of the low winter sun. They have weathered countless winters, standing as silent observers to the ebbs and flows of life around Beebee Lake. They remind me of my own fleeting presence in this timeless landscape.
Winter is not just a season; it’s a space for reflection. The snow-draped world around me is a canvas upon which nature paints its slow, deliberate strokes. It invites me to slow down, to breathe in the deep, aged air, and to contemplate the enduring cycles that have brought me to this bridge.
As I compose each photograph, bearing witness a profound dialogue between the land and its inhabitants, between history and the present moment Beebee Lake, with its frozen surface, becomes a metaphor for the stillness required to appreciate life’s beauty. Fall Creek, Werly Island, and the Cornell landscape are characters in a larger story that speaks to the symbiotic relationship we share with the environment.
These images, when I look back upon them, will remind me of the reverence this scene instills—the reverence for a world that, despite our advancements and our hubris, can still command our respect and inspire our wonder. They will stand as a testament to the beauty of pause, of nature’s inherent wisdom, and the enduring need to blend that wisdom with our own as we step into the future.
Slideshow of photographs in this series
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 
Beautiful photos, Michael. I do understand the fascination of frozen waterfalls.
Have taken a number of them in Sweden of a big waterfall. Amazes me how the water can freeze
like that whilst in full movement. Creates wonderful patterns.
Miriam
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..and the blue color of large amounts of frozen water always amazes me.
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Wow!!! So icy! Looks very cold and beautiful.
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Our December was very cold, single digits (double digit negatives Celsius). We also love the ice.
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Beautiful photos 🙂
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I am grateful for the opportunity and thanks for your compliment.
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Michael, thank you for sharing your winter walk through your prose and photos. You captured the fascination with nature’s enduring wonders. I seldom have an opportunity to take such a winter walk, usually the snow is absent. Perhaps nature will offer another invitation.
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In four years our winter season transformed from those wonders to this year’s sodden mess. Still no snow our way, maybe this weekend’s anticipated storm will change this.
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