Jack Frost Was Here

This morning was one of those days which I found to be bitter-sweet. The landscape, which was beautifully touched by the previous night's weather, was so utterly stunning that I had a certain amount of difficulty keeping my focus on the traffic around me as I drove into work; which brings me to the bitter portion of my reality. The fact that I could not take the time to photography this amazing event saddened me.

Picture this if you will:

The early morning sun is on the horizon illuminating the brilliant blue skies and the face of the surrounding westerly mountains. The trees are all frozen motionless in their white cocoons of frost; every branch, needle and leaf encased in glimmering ice crystals. Even the blades of dried-up, post-summer grass play a role in transforming our panoramic views into something magical…something heavenly. Then, as I am thinking to myself that I am seldom offered the occasion to witness such creations by Him, it gets even better! At the base of the mountain floats an ever-changing band of fog stretching from south to north. It is performing such a graceful dance in the morning sun that it's addition to the already breathtaking spectacle can be nothing less than a work-of-art painted by God's hands Himself.