‘Twas a Cold and Frosty Morning
Frosty mornings, though typically sunny, are always cold, sometimes bitter cold, but that haze of white in the air, the way chimney smoke lingers against the horizon, in no hurry as it slowly billows away from the chimney’s silhouette, and the tiny rainbow diamond sparkles on every object make me forget the cold—like this morning as I ran around the back door with slippers and no coat photographing the beauty of a frosty morning.
Looking closely, it coats the world in a thin rime of sparkling white as if it’s been coated in sugar; looking even closer, or seeing it on a window, you can even see the crystals.
This was the first beautiful place I noticed, the wood of the railing on the steps to my deck and the way the frost outlined the grain of the wood. I applied my cross-screen filter here, though it’s barely apparent.