I thought I loved snow. I still do, but you know, as a girl grows her heart changes. It's a friendly love that I have now for snow, a brotherly love. Because, friends, I met hoar frost.
It changed everything. You think you know what love is, and then something really glorious comes along and opens your eyes. I didn't know magic, real winter magic, until I met hoar frost. It's incredible. Snow--what a blunt instrument. It blankets, dampens, smothers. Hoar frost, on the other hand, is delicate. Hoar frost highlights, sharpens, encourages. Snow feels common now, and hoar frost--well hoar frost is downright rare.
We hunted on Thursday morning and drove to the ranch in the twilight, so I didn't get a clear look at the winter wonderland we were living in until the next morning. The sun rose just beyond the edge of the canyon, haloed in a mist of frozen fog, and lit up every facet of the hoar frost so the canyon sparkled and glittered like I've never seen it before. It was magnificent! On our walk I exclaimed every few feet over how beautiful it all was, the way the frost spiked off every minute surface of the pine trees and rose bushes. Instead of the dormancy that winter cold usually brings, the land felt like it was shivering with life. Downright vibrating with life. I was loathe to leave it, sad to watch the sun eat up the loveliness of the crystals.
I dislike freezing fog, it's true. But my god, what good can come from such a miserable weather condition. Here's to finding our one true weather pairing, and here's to hoping I get to see hoar frost again soon.