Even hard winter frosts can have a beauty – which is a reward you can gain simply by seeing what’s there.
With the cold comes Jack Frost, but relying on superstition and blaming Jack for winter is asking for too much cancelled disbelief; it grows ever harder to even suspend it.
Without lost-in-misty-time fancies, without those easy comforts, Mr Frost is often judged a cold killer – and at best is dismissed brusquely as generally, often deeply, unpleasant.
Ascribed as the cause of death for admired plants and treasured animals, poor Jack will rarely escape blame – not even from the normally rational.
It seems the normally rational rarely accept death as the necessity it is, as the reality that it will be – as a reality to be welcomed when the time’s right.
But meanwhile there’s a beauty in Jack’s patterns; their fragmented awkwardness offers its own values, proffers you its rewards – if you stop to notice them.
(Click on any image to see the full sized pictures.)
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