Today I stop and watch the river running through our yard, a dark ribbon lying on a silky white sheet. Don’t be overly impressed here. It’s really only a creek (someone more athletically-inclined could jump across it) but it is the north branch of the Little Wolf River. No matter how cold it gets, that little river never freezes over. It just keeps moving steadily along its course. When boulders and branches clutter the way, it alters its course to follow the path of least resistance, determined to reach its final destination. That river refuses to be stopped.