Frosted glass

Jack Frost continues to haunt the forest, this morning the puddles and pools were as frosted glass, I mean they looked just like it. 
 

Ice wings

 

The puddles which pock the tracks that cross Bratley Plain looked as if dozens of pairs of huge insect wings had been discarded in them. Cool.

Cold out

 Cold out.

Ice art

Jack's frosty fingers had been doodling overnight, leaving this fantastic icy graffiti over the roof of the car, the millions of tiny individual icicles were just so detailed. The beauty of the World and her elements never fails to amaze.

Jack in the woods

Jack's been out spreading icy mischief about the forest, any exposed water is  adorned in a crunchy glaze, every frond and leaf languishing in the frosty shade is dusted like a chilly doughnut and still his shivery breath fills the hollows, piercing any exposed skin. The forest's cold, I know, it should be, it's winter, and the addition of a northerly wind ensures you really feel it. Even a increasingly determined sun lends little relief, though any momentary relief is welcomed and embraced, no matter how weak or fleeting. Lovely walking mind.

Iced

It didn't snow last night, nor did it rain, it was something in-between, though not sleet, something like tiny tiny hail or tiny flecks of ice. Whatever they were were so tiny that they made no impression on the snow, none of that stippling you get when it rains or sleets on snow. By the morning every outside surface was encrusted in a hard clear icy glaze a few millimetres thick, it was quite a sight. It was a resilient ice coating too, I watch as one of our cats (Mr Fluff), a fair sized one, walked across the snowy lawn without leaving a mark in the snow. It was treacherous to walk on though, any compacted surface was lubricious, and over covered snow it was like walking across a slick Crème brûlée top, your feet slid all over as you broke through. Interesting weather, interesting day.

Frozen

The early spring flowers may be popping up all over, but winter's not done yet. As you walked you could feel that ice has taken in the wet ground, the usually yielding surfaces of the seasons forest are solid, the ditches and pools have an icy crust. I like it when it's like this, it makes getting around the forest a lot easier, a lot firmer under foot. As I wend through the stands periodically light flurries of snow filled the air, only to disappear in the blink of an eye.  But the icy cold, that stays. It's clearly still winter. Though the wheel turns and with it the seasons, with March comes spring and promise. 

Ice

The forest now has a proper wintry feel to it. I saw my first real ice of the season whilst out briefly in the forest today. The water in the puddles through Linford Bottom has been transformed, liquid made solid, all were capped in a good thickness of clear ice. The ice on some puddles has been smashed, with the broken pieces spread and looking like shattered glass. I dig winter when it's cold, I'd rather it be cold than wet.

Ice-iverse

Galaxies of bubbly stars suspended in the ice-iverse.