If you're feeling a little sorry for yourself, there's nothing like a morning of frozen fog to snap you out of it. Glittery and crisp, the fog settles on every surface, horizontal, vertical or otherwise. This is my highly scientific explanation: It's magic.
Some might prefer a white blanket of snow but I am much enamored of the fuzzy outlines of frozen fog, the thickest frost you'll ever see, weighing down each blade of grass in sparkly splendor, outlining the lawn furniture in a halo of white.
Am I going on too much about the frozen fog?
It did get me outside with the camera again, so I guess I'm a little grateful.
I realized a few days ago that my usual month of four thousand eight hundred and two photographs dwindled to a couple hundred in November. That was partly due to my (failed) attempt to complete National Novel Writing Month, partly due to rampant illness in our family (no one wants their picture taken with a red nose and handkerchief), partly due to an unnamable funk that I of course left in denial-land for, oh, 28 days of the month.
You know what else moved out of denial-land? My oh-so-naive belief that Laura, not quite 2 years old, would remain asleep while I tiptoed outside for these pictures. At the very least I was sure she'd wake one of her sisters if she woke up. Er, no.
In the space of eight minutes she did a little tiptoeing of her own and dismantled one clarinet and one art supply set.
Still it was worth it.
2 comments:
My mornings alone outside gathering eggs are almost spiritual for me. Even if I only get 10 minutes the flowing water and crisp air clears my head and I can face the day.
It's way more than magic :)
I can't wait for frost.
That picture of frosted leaves is gorgeous! It is so neat how God provides beauty for us to enjoy at every time of year. Even when it is cold outside. Our temps have been going below zero just lately - so I can relate to the cold.
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