It was a quirk of light. Without it I would have missed the tiny ice garden on my window.
Among the little plants I spotted fern trees, maple leaves, thistle heads, shrubs and grass, perhaps an elm or maybe a beech. The biggest is less than a centimetre, not even half an inch.
The garden is growing on the outer pane of a double-paned window, facing north onto snow-draped spruce trees. Not sure when it took root — last night it was about -30C (-20F) so perhaps that was enough to sprout this grace and beauty.
Bumping up the blue levels on the photo created this fairyland effect.
Weather bounces warm and cold
Snow melts and freezes
If it weren’t for the rocks
I’d get out the skates
And hit the road
Last night Jack Frost
Blew against my windows
And feathered them with ice
Cold. Icy roads.
Blowing snow. Poor visibility.
Shoulda just stayed home.
The dugout at the corner of our woods is a favourite watering hole for many animals. After a very warm summer with little rain it was almost dry this fall.
Then the temperature dropped and the puddles froze.
I set off to get some shots of the season’s first ice. I was disappointed as most of the puddles had been broken by animals looking for water.
So I rejigged my thinking: If I couldn’t find perfect ice, what could I find?
That’s when I spotted the surprise. An elk had stepped on this puddle, shattering the ice. When it refroze the centre portion marked the track of her foot — leaving in its wake a winter sunflower. 🙂
As I headed out on my walk this morning I spied a frozen puddle.
I was tempted to walk right by. Afterall, it was just a puddle. Instead I stopped, dropped and got personally acquainted.
Glad I did.
Yup. Winter has launched a shot across autumn’s bow. The faint drizzle yesterday turned into several centimetres of the white stuff by morning.
North wind snow on corral
But the temps will rise later this week and the panic to install snow tires, replace the weather stripping and buy new gloves will wane. After all, winter is months way.
Wild rose hip Rosa acicularis
Jack Frost and I were both out early this morning. I found his mark on low-growing shrubs and grasses, on withered clover and damp stones.
After too many days of heavy rain this week’s forecast promises sun and warmth. Ah, but nighttime, that’s a different story. Old Man Frost is lurking around the edges, biding his time. Winter’s harbinger.
September 13, 2016
Another spring storm.
Heavy snow shuts down the garden.
Underneath — the lilac holds her perfumed breath.
A light mist dripped over the garden the day before.
Nightfall and the temperature dropped.
By morning frost crystals, like salt grains, dot the lupine leaves.