Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Jack Frost

Wheat crop on November 18, 2010, after a heavy frost

The leaves fall
The wind blows
And farm country slowly changes
From summer cottons
Into its winter wools
Henry Beston, Northern Farm

There was no frost on the pumpkin, a condition some poet once eloquently wrote about. (I did look at the pumpkin I had near the front steps, but truly - and surprisingly - there was no frost.)

However, last Thursday, there was frost on plenty of other things here on the County Line. I did need my "winter wools" - or at least a heavy sweatshirt - when I went on my walk.

But the nippy air was worth it for the beauty of the heavy frost. Like icing on a birthday cake, the frost decorated weeds and gave them a festive gleam.

It transformed them from boring brown to crystals glimmering in the faded light of the sun, which was shy to arise on the crisp November morning.

Summer or fall ... fog or frost ... There's beauty to be found among the weeds.

I think there's a lesson there.

August 18, 2010

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