Walden is a place for all seasons, but it carries its beauty best in winter. Last year, I visited the pond in early February on a clear, frigid day. It was completely frozen over, and the lone ice-fisherman in the middle of the pond was a speck on the horizon. I steeled myself and proceeded to walk straight across the pond, knowing that if the ice cracked I was probably screwed. Thankfully that didn’t happen, and by the time I reached the middle the fisherman had headed off to the shore for a break. I was standing alone in the middle of Walden pond. The actual temperature betrayed the clear sky and radiant sun, but I took off my hat and felt the wind freeze my hair. I felt close to nature, as close as one can get within twenty miles of Boston.