I was woken this morning by a text from my husband: Mist is rising in the woods. Backlit melting frost. Go up the hill behind the sports field.
It’s good to have a scout sometimes. 🙂
So yes, this is another post chock full of frosty stuff, but this time they’re melting, you see? Totally different!
Every other night is a frost night now, but before the day is over, it’s all melted. I’m actually looking forward to the snow, because most of the colours are gone. The forest is grey and brown, just like it was at the end of April when I first bought my camera. It feels a bit like coming full circle, only what I’m waiting for now isn’t the exuberance of bursting buds, but the quiet descent into a wintry Lethe.
All their lifeblood gone, the flowers lean on each other for support, heads heavy with frozen dew.
And one last time, they quicken in the waning warmth of the morning sun.
The seeds that haven’t blown away hang abandoned from the stem.
It’s such a special kind of fleeting beauty: melting ice crystals. It only exists for a little while, but that doesn’t make it less precious. Can we think like that of other passing joys as well?