It's about 14º out, with a wind chill of 0º. Frosty wind is indeed making moan (and flinging tiny flakes of ice against my face); earth stands hard as iron, water like a stone. Christina Rossetti never lived in Wisconsin, but she certainly knows how to describe winter.
The path to the lake is bare once more, but skimmed with icy ruts:
The lake itself, having toyed with the idea of a thaw, is frozen again...
...but the freeze/thaw cycle has buckled and lifted the ice at its edge, revealing the leaf-covered shoreline beneath.
The trail is covered with deer tracks, and edged with milkweed pods - blown empty of their floss and looking more exotic than ever:
The wind is bitter today. Each time I take off my mitten to snap a photo, my fingers freeze painfully, raising thoughts of frostbite.
A leaf shivers on its icy bed:
With no glory of foliage, the trees are yet lovely, standing upright and still in the snow...
...their trunks quietly decorated with lichen and moss.
The grey clouds break a bit to reveal blue sky and a faint hint of peach beyond:
Everywhere is the delicate tracery of twigs - perhaps the greatest beauty of winter. Some are smooth and bare...
...and others are beaded with tiny thoughts of spring to come.
Brrr, little buds. Hang on tight. It will get colder before it gets warmer.
The biting wind makes me glad to hurry home, where food and yarn are waiting. What bliss to have a hot meal, then to sit in a warm room with yarn and hook in hand and a loved one nearby. I've been crocheting hard all week, working on future magazine submissions (fingers crossed that some of them get accepted).
What have you been doing?
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