by William Carlos Williams
All the complicated detailsYesterday, our wise trees were attired again, even if only briefly.
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among
the long branches.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.
We woke up to an amazing world. All the trees were covered with this stuff. I'd say it was some sort of snow or ice crystal, but whatever it was, it made for a beautiful day.
Another shot, with more branches. (I won't share the photos I took when Bonnie was tugging "let's go, let's go" on the leash. They are less impressive.)
I took these photos (the photos above & below) at lunch, when Bonnie and I were out walking. As you can see, it was a beautiful day, with blue-skied sunshine, and not too cold. But those trees drew my attention, again and again. And, every now and then, as we walked, those crystals would come blowing down on us - snow that wasn't really snow. It was magical.
I'm not sure which of those two pictures I like better. The first captures the crystal effect better, but I like the tree in the foreground in this second shot (and Jim likes that the footprints in the snow are less visible).
Here's a picture in the woods by Friendship Village. At that park bench, the path goes both to the right and the left, and watching Bonnie made me think of the Robert Frost line "two roads diverged in a wood..."
Thinking of Frost, and the snow crystals falling on us, reminded me of another of his poems, "Dust of Snow."
The way a crowOf course, there was nothing to rue about this day. It was a visual feast, a year-end gift.
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
I even managed to take several fairly decent pictures of Bonnie (she was distracted trying to read all her smell-mail).