The Artistry of Jack Frost

Stephanie took these photos a few days ago, and kindly let me share them with you. On terrribly frigid days like today I sort of question my supposed liking for winter, but there’s no denying the natural beauty of the season. Unfortunately Stephanie didn’t have a chance to go back outside with the camera this day, after the sun came out and the hoar frost started to glisten like diamond dust . But trust me, it was absolutely beautiful, and made me very glad to live where I do. If I start to complain about cold and snow being a drag in late February or so, just point me back to this post, okay? 🙂

Hoar frost on an elm tree, on the boulevard between the front of our property and the street.

Gorgeous frost pattern on our bathroom window. The sun had just come out at this point and the sky was a brilliant blue, hence the blue tones behind the frost.

A closer view of the same frosty window. Pretty, isn’t it?

Jack Frost
by Gabriel Setoun

The door was shut, as doors should be,
Before you went to bed last night;
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
And left your window silver white.

He must have waited till you slept;
And not a single word he spoke,
But pencilled o’er the panes and crept
Away again before you woke.

And now you cannot see the hills
Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane;
But there are fairer things than these
His fingers traced on every pane.

Rocks and castles towering high;
Hills and dales, and streams and fields;
And knights in armor riding by,
With nodding plumes and shining shields.

And here are little boats, and there
Big ships with sails spread to the breeze;
And yonder, palm trees waving fair
On islands set in silver seas,

And butterflies with gauzy wings;
And herds of cows and flocks of sheep;
And fruit and flowers and all the things
You see when you are sound asleep.

For, creeping softly underneath
The door when all the lights are out,
Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe,
And knows the things you think about.

He paints them on the window-pane
In fairy lines with frozen steam;
And when you wake you see again
The lovely things you saw in dream.


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