The frost laid so thickly on the ground in places this morning, it looked like snow. It was still dark when I set out and the fog had the world shrouded in secret. I felt almost as if I had crossed over into another world, a fairyland. The pond has been frozen solid for over three days and on my walk yesterday, I watched a man venture out on it, laughing as he stood there while his wife took his picture.
The woods were quiet today. I only passed one other person. The fog began to lift in places and the sky gradually turned a pearlescent pinky peach. I watched a muntjac slowly come out from under the branches and make his way across the path in front of me. Only to be swallowed up again by the brush on the other side.
I saw a fox this morning. He was trotting along the footpath and we stopped to watch each other for a few moments before he ran down a side path and carried on deeper into the woods. I spied a great tawny owl sailing through the trees and majestically land on a barren branch, his body blending in perfectly with the bark.
It was a magical walk indeed and a wonderful way to start the week.
The temperature dropped so low last night, that we awoke this morning to a fairyland encrusted in sugar. It has been too wet to run through the woods the past few days, but with the world hard with frost underneath my feet, I took my first walk into the woods in this new year.
It was beautiful! The air was so cold and fresh, the light was so purely white. The ducks were skating across the pond. The robins were singing and swooping from branch to branch. Pure magic.
It seems fitting that the last day of November should bring with it, such frosty conditions. I didn’t walk for very long this morning, even with my gloves on, my fingers were just too cold.
The ice on the pond was thicker this morning. A small portion, untouched by ice, still remained and the ducks were huddled in there together, paddling about. The air smelled so clean and fresh. The woods were quiet this morning.
So much happens in the month of November that it always goes by in such a blur. I hope December doesn’t pass us by in a whirl. I keep thinking where I was a year ago and where I am now and where we might be this time next year. Goodbye, November! See you next year.
It was 25°F when I headed out for my walk this morning. The pond was frozen over, but one little patch by the reeds still remained swimmable, as a lone duck was paddling about. Tonight it is supposed to get even colder.
I made my way down to the edge of the water to look at the ice. I’m always fascinated seeing how it forms. This was a contrast of angles and rough edges. It was almost feathered in some spots. I love peering at things under the ice as well. One Christmas in Denmark, we were out for a stroll and I noticed that someone had dropped a bit of a tangerine peel in a small dip in the street. The water that was resting in that dip had frozen over and the peel lay underneath. You could see crystals around it’s edges, almost like sugar. There was a beauty to it, frozen underneath the blueish coloured ice. I never photographed it. I wish that I had. I think of it often. A strange thing to think of I know, but there was a quality to the light that day and a beauty to what lay beneath our feet.
I ran errands during lunch and treated myself to a gingerbread hot chocolate. Happiness is…
When I left the house this morning the sun was just beginning to rise. My breath puffed out in little frozen white clouds in front of me. The thermometer said it was 26°F. The frost lay so thick on the ground that I didn’t do a lot of running. I was just trying to be careful not to slip and slide everywhere as I made my way down the street and to the woods.
As the sun began to rise the light was almost white. It was a Vermeer light. I could picture him leaping out of bed at the sight of the purity of the light this morning and racing around grabbing brushes and paints to capture it on canvas.
The pond had frozen over and the ducks were waddling over the sheet of ice, talking to each other as they went.
The robins were singing and I was greeted by a few of my furry friends. One of my particular favourites, a chocolate lab; who came bounding down the path to tell me “Good Morning” and give me kisses.
It was freezing, but it was glorious. Jack Frost had sprinkled my world in shimmering crystals and ice glitter last night and it was breathtaking.
Well, my lunch break started just in time for me to dash in to the office for 5 minutes and see what Phil had to say. He didn’t look too happy this morning coming out of his cozy little burrow. His verdict was: 6 MORE WEEKS OF WINTER!
Now, since Phil doesn’t predict the weather for my neck of the woods, maybe he could talk to his buddies that do, because I would really like some snow Phil, just a little bit!
When I was in elementary school and the electrifying, magnificent, blissful four letter word that is S-N-O-W, was sent forth from our lips, we all squealed. Someone would always be the organizer and tell everyone else in the class that we had to do a snow dance and wear our PJ’s inside out, so that our town would be wrapped in a white coverlet of snow and we would have the day off from school.
Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. It normally depended on whether or not the snow was moving up the Gulf or coming over the Blue Ridge Mountains as to whether we would be graced by Susie Snowflake herself. Well, I saw that heavenly four letter word yesterday and I was beaming all afternoon, I kept staring out the window last night, I barely slept, the weather channel promised it was gonna happen. But alas, I woke up to freezing temperatures, a black sky and NO snow. So, off to school I went.
I’m not greedy, I would just like ONE snow day. Just one day off from school, where everyone can play outside or stay in and drink hot chocolate and stay cozy. Just one day, that’s all I’m asking for.
I think other people were wishing for that snow day as well as my train was exceptionally quiet this morning. The second full week since everyone has returned to work and the memory of Christmas seems to have faded like an old piece of cloth. Everyone is tired. Everyone is waiting for the weekend.
The quietness continued on the tube with my band of mismatched travellers. Until we hit my third stop down the line, where a mother and her son get on every morning. Any peace to the journey usually ends there, as he is a very lively little person. He’s feeling his oats lately and spends most of the journey telling his mom, “No!” or screaming. When they get off a few stops down he shouts, “Goodbye!”, to everyone, most of the people in the carriage normally respond with a wave, a smile or a nod. There is a collective sigh of relief that peace has returned as we shuttle down the tracks.
There is another mother who gets on in the morning with her daughter, who is about 7. Their routine, normally involves studying for a test or finishing up homework. She is very animated and today while working on smilies, she stated that my scarf was as yellow as sweet corn and her gloves were as navy as blueberries. I couldn’t help but laugh, she has quite an imagination, I hope she never loses that!
Come on, Miss Susie Snowflake! Just bring me one really good snowy day, that’s all I need. Maybe I should do a snow dance and wear my PJ’s inside out tonight for luck!