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Mother Nature’s Artwork

We’re all familiar with Mother Nature’s artwork in the sky: from the Cloud Beings who show up when we need them to the stunning sunsets painted across the sky that take our breath away. But tonight I’d like to celebrate the artistry that’s channeled when temperatures plunge then climb – and plunge again. Sometimes, I swear there’s a pen and ink artist working out their creative urges in the between and they’re using puddles and streams to express it.

All of these photos were taken the same night (Monday night), yet to me they seem to reflect vastly different facets of a March evening. They actually almost seem to reflect different climates! But they were all taken within a radius of two miles or so.

I can’t decide which photo I’d like to include at the top of this post. Do I go with the stunning color of a blood orange sunset reflected in roadside puddles? Or do I lead with an iced-over puddle that sort of hits me in the gut by how it reminds me of cartoon doodles that Karl used to draw on bits of paper and in notebooks I still randomly discover?

Icicles Too

Then there are the icicles dripping from the rocky ledges overhanging a creek that flows into the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). I regret that I am unable to name this creek at the moment, but I can attest to its loveliness.

Pacha and Brutus were still able to find a snow drift to jump into yesterday (although tonight it was much less fun to play in). Speaking of which – can you believe it? They actually have grown to love playing in the snow. Aaah, seven month olds!

Snow Shenanigans – Photo: L. Weikel

With temperatures expected near 70 degrees tomorrow, I doubt we’ll find any more icy puddle doodles or icicles. Indeed, these may have been the last of the season (although I doubt it).

Oh! Which reminds me. I found the shortest little daffodil blooming in the neighbors’ grass today. I was going to call it the littlest daffodil, but it’s definitely a full-size daffodil (as opposed to the true miniatures I’ve seen). But its stem just never seemed to grow and the bloom is nestled amongst blades of grass.

Shortest Daffodil – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+98)

Another day, another year, but beautiful nonetheless – Photo: L. Weikel

It’s Ugly

I’m struggling to come up with something interesting to write about this evening. Everything just seems so damn depressing. From the politics of last week to climate change this week, preparing for the impact of which was completely botched by politicians in Texas due to their slavish dedication to the vaunted holy grail of deregulation, it’s ugly. And that’s not even mentioning the ongoing pandemic and the threat of what seems like a bazillion mutations appearing now and expected to continue dodging, dancing, and shifting their structures into the future.

I look out my window at the moment and see a car slowly making its way along our road, ice crunching under the tires. It’s slippery out there. I know firsthand.

A Miserable Mix

As we walked late this afternoon, the precipitation was a miserable mix of sleet and rain that turned to ice as soon as it hit anything – including my jacket. Running my hand along my sleeve or the front of my jacket felt like I was reading braille.

On the last stretch of the walk there were at least three inches of snow on the road surface, with a coating of ice on top that added that crunchy cadence to all our footsteps – even Spartacus’s. It was easier to walk in the thicker stuff. Anything that had been packed down was completely slick. So I was careful.

But as we started to make our final descent down the hill that leads to the crossroads near our home, my feet went out from under me. This fall unfolded more slowly than the last one (in which I smacked the back of my head) and I must say, I do believe I scored at least a 7.5 in grace.

Tomorrow’s Promise

I do have one hope that always bubbles up on days like this and never grows old. It’s the hope that we will awaken tomorrow to an indescribably breathtaking winter wonderland, where every single branch of every single tree, every single blade of grass and every single pine needle is coated in ice. And to top off the perfection, the sun needs to come out and cast glistening rainbows making life look like it’s taking place inside a magical kingdom.

If I’m lucky, I’ll see it and share the magic with all of you. In the meantime, we’ll have to make due with memories from other such storms. Because trust me – there was nothing but gray skies to document today.