I went out yesterday with the intention of taking more photos of fungi. I got sidetracked. (That happens often… I’ve written of this before.)
hoar·frost (hôrfrôst) n. Frozen dew that forms a white coating on a surface. Also called white frost. (source)
The thermometer claimed it was colder than my last walk in these woods. There was some proof: Puddles were frozen all the way to the bottom. The snow was powdery, not melty. And, of course, the rime.
Still… I felt warmer. There was no wind. The warmth of intermittant rays from a distant sun may have been purely psychological. Still… my gloves stayed in my pockets most of the time. Even the chickadees were fooled into making their springtime fee-bee song.
A woodpecker drummed nearby… but never let us have a glimpse. Crows mobbed a hawk or owl in the distance.
My friend Norbert blogged about what great weather he had for Christmas in sunny southern California. A crystalline morning like this I wouldn’t trade for the world!