12 January 2011

With a twinkle and a drip


Yesterday was so cold and misty it was almost possible to watch the ice form on the bare tree branches in view of the house.  From pine trees in the woods to the nandinas on either side of the front door, most plants and trees are bent under the ice's weight.  But, when I went to bed last night, the moon was a dark orange, glowing smile hovering just above the trees on the far side of the pond, casting long, deep shadows across the landscape, leading right up to the bedroom windows.  Eerie and spellbinding.  I had stepped out onto the front steps earlier during the evening to whistle up Whitby and was greeted not only by four little wet feet in need of a towel, but by a canopy of bright, twinkling stars behind scattered, fast-moving clouds.  I knew today would be bright.

Today's major activity was traversing our newly passable driveway.  The Bi-Lo on a Wednesday (aka old person day) was simply irresistible.  Although I'm not one who minds being couped up, it was rather nice to be out and about and sociable -- even if it is the grocery store -- after several days at home and inside mostly.

By late in the day the view was still primarily white.  But, I had the sensation that the world had begun melting and dripping away.  We explored the yard, the four of us -- Tal and I entertained by Whitby and Belle's experience at skating on the back yard's slick icy-snow slope toward the pond.  Eight little feet scrambling for traction.  360s followed by a silly, bewildered, dizzied expression at the end.  I shouldn't laugh.  Could have happened to us with not-so-amusing results.

A quiet and wonderful, twinkly, drippy day.

More and more I and the camera are attracted to patterns.  These are shadows across our front yard in the early afternoon.  Sadly, the angle of the sun and the lasting-power of the ice-encrusted snow didn't come together ideally.  Tiny points of brown grass were beginning to show through already.

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