Winter Wonderland

January 12, 2025

Sunrise, January 8, 2024

After the storm, the landscape is transformed. A blanket of white has covered the dry, brown grasses. Ice and then snow have coated the trees and bushes. The pond, coves, and edges of the lake are frozen.

This summer’s oregano is now an ice sculpture.

Even the most mundane things become tiny works of art. Ice perfectly covers a single leaf, an ephemeral window etched with intricate details.

Almost like blown glass.

A bicycle rack I’ve passed by a thousand times and never noticed is now covered in frost and ice, as if it were draped in lace. The ice that has fallen from it smiles at me from the ground.

I could stare at the patterns in the frost for hours.

Look at the edge of that ice! It reminds me of very fine lace.

It’s definitely smiling at me, and I see an outline of a flower in it.

I was not the first visitor to the park, the dog walkers and eager kids likely blazed the trail before me. The mounds they left in the snow remind me of molehills.

Do we call these people hills?

I look through my camera at the ice on the tree branches and I am mesmerized by how the ice on the branches behind creates patterns in the bokeh I’ve never seen before.

At least as interesting as the rainbow sparkles on the spiderwebs last summer!

A limited color palate is brought to life by the light and shadow, animating the myriad of shapes and textures into all manner of snow beings.

Look, I found a sweet snow creature!

I went looking for birds in a favorite spot and only found a few. I might have found more birds, but just as I stepped into the spot, a bird whirred by my head and disappeared into the bush. I heard the whoosh of the feathers as it made a sharp turn around me and then got a glimpse of a sharp-shinned hawk. The little birds were hiding from more than the cold!

Tree bark and moss are beautiful anytime, but the ice adds such a nice dimension to this work of art.

Walking home, I found a junco all fluffed out among the ice-covered branches. Even in temperatures near zero Fahrenheit, the little birds seem to do ok.

Junco looks perfectly comfortable.

It’s hard for me to remember when I see a storm coming that life will still be beautiful after it passes. Life will be different, but life will still be beautiful.

My bird friends, like this cardinal, seem to accept these changes with ease.

It’s easy for me to spend my time wishing things were different. Nature keeps reminding me that while I’m wishing for different, I’m missing the gifts of the moment.

Gifts like a little song sparrow in the snow.

Some storms are bigger than others. Sometimes it takes longer to see the beauty. It always comes, eventually, often mixed together with the destruction, grief, and loss.

Today, I can focus on the beauty and receive the gift that is offered. Whatever storms are in your world, I hope you find safety, a calm center, and can see the beauty when it appears.

Sending prayers to all in Southern California.