As aforementioned, I find winter a largely uninspiring time of year here in the UK. So much dies back, and it’s too cold for me to just set up shop in the middle of the woods and hang out all day. It does make discovering things of admiration all the more special.
On Thursday 31.12.20, walking by the church in the middle of the wooded graveyard, I was greeted by a blanket of grass. Each blade sparkled with a coat of crystallised dew. As I walked, I was satisfied by the crunchy texture it laid underfoot. I found many leaves compassed with ice crystals. They were so fragile, I could watch the crystals begin to melt under my warm breath and fingers. The impermanence of it made the moment worth keeping.
I recall visiting my auntie in Philadelphia a few winters back . Walking through the woods, I came upon a cascade of icicles. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen in the UK, at least down in the south of England. Our milder winters are far less dramatic than they are across the pond, or further up north.