The First Frost
There’s a winter promise in the air. Taking the dog out for a final stroll late at night, all the signs are there - the sky is clear, the moon bright, and the temperature has dropped rather drastically. He’s on his way. And sure enough, in the morning, whilst still sleepy and warm under thick woolen blankets, I somehow can feel his presence. I’ll admit, it still takes me awhile to get out of bed, but I know that his intricate handiwork awaits admiration.
Jack is quite the lad.
As if by magic, the first hard frost of winter has changed the landscape as we know it. It’s an unfamiliar familiar. The lines of the hills look transformed. Overnight, he’s preserved the last glimpse of late summer in crystallised flashes of purple heather and turned spiders webs into new artworks. At this time of year, when nature seems to be coming to a close, Jack Frost forces us to see life from a different perspective.
He’s an overture to the fourth movement - the finale before a new symphony begins in Spring.
Taking time to look at the little things can be breathtaking. Growing up as an inquisitive child in the countryside, I am grateful that it’s now second nature for me to seek out the small details that each season gifts us. And on that morning as dawn broke and the sunrise cast a warm glow across the valley, I was able to capture the fleeting beauty of Jack’s miniature creations as they disappeared before my eyes.
As the first rays of the morning light broke through the trees and landed on Jack’s crystal carpet, it felt almost magic like. A glistening, shimmering wonderland. And while the droplets of water were frozen in place, I worked quickly to capture them in time.
I hope you will agree, it was something to get out of bed for.
Words & Images by Country Meets Creative