Frost
Much like the fox buried deep in his den or the robin tucked up in her twiggydown nest, I am exactly where I should be. Snuggled in feathers and linen and down, I feel the welcome weight of a furry white dog lying across my feet as I ebb and flow through the dawn. An icy wind blows through the windchimes, those cathedral bells of the morning that dangle throughout the thorny rosebush scrambling over my window. They are calling me to rise.
I burrow further down, in no hurry to partake of the coldest day yet this season. But eventually, reluctantly, I open one eye. Yes, it is just as I thought. The flamboyant Jack Frost has been at work through the night, I can see his artistic flourishes on the borders of my windowpanes. He will have painted the garden with silver, for his colour palette never alters. A nomadic soul, he travels the globe hand in hand with the cold, an itinerant painter of polar renown. The hoar frosts of Yorkshire, the frozen shoreline of St. Kilda, the rime rink lake in Maine - all bear his shivering signature.
He has found his way now to my very own garden and the sheen that emanates from his latest lifesize creation has changed the morning light that streams across my sleepy face. Sharp and insistent, it pierces the quiet room like a laser, with no intention whatsoever of allowing me to remain in my bed. It nudges, it taps, it calls to me of the tasks of this December day.... cake baking, present wrapping, cookie doughs and Christmas cards.
Ah, but is that not the goal of every great artist? Do they not wish for their work to inspire, to lift their audience out of themselves, to spur them on to greater things? And who am I to deny the artistry of Jack Frost.
I have seen his handiwork this morning.
So, I rise!
Much like the fox buried deep in his den or the robin tucked up in her twiggydown nest, I am exactly where I should be. Snuggled in feathers and linen and down, I feel the welcome weight of a furry white dog lying across my feet as I ebb and flow through the dawn. An icy wind blows through the windchimes, those cathedral bells of the morning that dangle throughout the thorny rosebush scrambling over my window. They are calling me to rise.
I burrow further down, in no hurry to partake of the coldest day yet this season. But eventually, reluctantly, I open one eye. Yes, it is just as I thought. The flamboyant Jack Frost has been at work through the night, I can see his artistic flourishes on the borders of my windowpanes. He will have painted the garden with silver, for his colour palette never alters. A nomadic soul, he travels the globe hand in hand with the cold, an itinerant painter of polar renown. The hoar frosts of Yorkshire, the frozen shoreline of St. Kilda, the rime rink lake in Maine - all bear his shivering signature.
He has found his way now to my very own garden and the sheen that emanates from his latest lifesize creation has changed the morning light that streams across my sleepy face. Sharp and insistent, it pierces the quiet room like a laser, with no intention whatsoever of allowing me to remain in my bed. It nudges, it taps, it calls to me of the tasks of this December day.... cake baking, present wrapping, cookie doughs and Christmas cards.
Ah, but is that not the goal of every great artist? Do they not wish for their work to inspire, to lift their audience out of themselves, to spur them on to greater things? And who am I to deny the artistry of Jack Frost.
I have seen his handiwork this morning.
So, I rise!
"Frost is the greatest artist of our clime - He paints in nature and describes in rime."
Thomas Hood
1799-1845
Thomas Hood
1799-1845
Cozy, in spite of the nippy air outside. Sounds like it's time for a big cup of hot cocoa.
ReplyDeleteHere as well is such a day today, crispy cold, white light and some smell of wood fires here and there...
ReplyDeleteOur mornings start early, but I always prepare in the morning a good breakfast, so we all sit down at 7:30 and have oatmeal and scrambled eggs, hot coffee and cocoa, bacon and toast...it is a wonderful ritual, which is only matched by our dinners at night!
The children often come downstairs still sleepy and somewhat grumpy but usually fast restored to all energy needed for the day after breakfast! We talk and laugh - most of the time - and love our time together before we're all off to somewhere out there.
It is so lovely to read your poetic describtion of your frosty morning!
I can picture you...and Edward!
XX
Victoria
I find frosty cold mornings invigorating...when I'm warm inside the house. Hope you've accomplished all of your goals.
ReplyDeletePamela, this is such a beautiful description of wonderful old Jack Frost. I love taking the dogs out on frosty mornings - the crackle of the frost under our feet, the thin crisp air and the dogs madly sniffing the previous night's fox trails. You've captured the moment perfectly. Leigh
ReplyDeleteThere is a wonderful, dreary and dreamy song called Jack Frost by Waterson:Carthy. Worth a listen. You can almost feel the ice growing on the windows.
ReplyDeleteToday in Edinburgh the fog has taken over everything. It makes the world look like something out of a Victorian painting.
I love this, esp. the part about being a 'nomadic soul' - just lovely.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful picture, so lovely! When I was a child, I wondered about Jack frost! Grownups referred to this little man, and I used to try to see him when the grass was icy in the mornings. I expected to spot him at work! suzie. xxx
ReplyDeletethanks for making Jack an artist...a charming story with dreamy, fairytale aspects.
ReplyDeleteWe awoke to frozen fog this morning. Very beautiful, but it was hard to wrench myself from sleep and my warm bed.
ReplyDeleteYou make it sound so lovely, though!
I love a nippy morning - better than all the rain we've been having... have a lovely weekend !
ReplyDeleteThat Mr. Frost certainly is an extremely gifted artist, isn't he... I believe he had earlier left his creativity here sketching crystal like flourishes across the windows.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy your weekend cuddled beneath the warmth of down with your devoted companions at your side...
Susan
My first time visit to your blog and a beautiful read it is. Well we are heading for 22 Celsius and the sun is poking through, while I read your desciptive post of Jack Frost's artistic endeavours.
ReplyDeleteMr. Jack frost has been at work in London too. It has been the coldest day. Isn't he the greatest artist? He is up there with Miss Snowflake. Another beautiful artisr.
ReplyDeleteHave a lovely weekend Pamela, creating and baking. XXXX
Cake baking, present wrapping, cookie doughs and Christmas cards have filled my week, too! I've also been listening to the lovely tinkling of the windchime on the magnolia by the patio, as the frosty wind plays through.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely description of Jack Frost, Pamela. I too look for him a frozen winter mornings. He has been very busy in Wisconsin, with temperatures below zero the last few nights.
ReplyDeleteI love celebrating this season with you!
I haven't thought about Jack Frost since my childhood. I was afraid of Jack Frsot, to be frank, and just now remember that. Anyway, as always a very charming post.
ReplyDeleteAn apt qote indeed. Do send him over here, baking is so much easier when there are errant ferns and chrysanthemums growing on the window panes.
ReplyDeleteI know you will wallow in the beauty of your creations today and Edward will enjoy the smells and scraps too.
Hi Pamela,
ReplyDeleteI love your writing ~ wonderful description of Mr Jack Frost painting the garden with silver.
So lovely to be able to go through the Seasons with you.
Stay warm and have a lovely weekend
Hugs
Carolyn
This is our coldest morning at 20 degrees with a wind-chill. A cozy fire, good hot coffee and our pups at our feet to warm our toes. Your words and the art in your posts are exquisite Pamela.
ReplyDeleteIsn't that just a marvelous frosty drawing ..not just the image but also your way with words;)
ReplyDeleteHello P&E,
ReplyDeleteJack really does know how to decorate. We also enjoyed his beautiful silver trimmings this morning but the mist has come along too!
As a little girl, I loved it when Mother would ask us to look and see if Jack Frost was here!
ReplyDeleteYes! Jack Frost is indeed a great artist. I thinking baking tonight will be just the right thing to do, Pamela. I can only imagine what delights you'll create.
ReplyDeleteI love so much how you've described that delicious feeling of waking up in a cosy bed on a cold morning!
xoxo Gigi
By reading this post I am ready for the frost! In he weatherforcast today in Belgium they warned us for the 1st frostnight!
ReplyDeleteHave a nice weekend Pam!
xx
Greet
Jack Frost is a wonderful artist, I remember as a child that my bedroom windows would be covered in the most beautiful frost patterns on winter mornings, no central heating in most English houses in those days! Bedrooms were VERY cold places.
ReplyDeleteYes it's just like that this morning....everywhere sparkles, magical, beautiful frost.
ReplyDeleteI love this post of yours as always so thoughtful and so very beautiful...
Hugs Lynn xxx
I am still waiting for Jack Frost to visit....xv
ReplyDeleteJack Frost has leaped beyond us and
ReplyDeletenow just crunchy snow under our feet.
Your words about Jack Frost...just beautifully said! Thank you
: )
Here in the Highlands we're under a heavy frost and freezing fog. I just love this time of year. Everything becomes...enchanted. :)
ReplyDeleteYes Pamela, he is a truly great artist! I love that little poem at the end, I have not heard it before.
ReplyDeleteYour words paint beautiful pictures.x
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting on my room to think about. It was so interesting , and very much appreciated. I love your dog!
ReplyDeleteYes, same here, but without the poetry of your words. How lovely it is to read them and put words to my thoughts!
ReplyDeleteAnd I fear I might gain a bit of weight with all the goodies around, but so be it.
Oh...that Jack frost...such a dim memory!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful,evocative as usual!
beautiful post pamela!
ReplyDeletei too love frost and now think of it with new eyes, as art.
thank you
debra
I remember reading the Little House on the Prairie books as a child, and there was a particularly vivid description of frost on the window that captured my imagination and remains in my mind to this day. Natural wonders like frost were highly entertaining to children who were virtually trapped inside all day in the pioneer days!
ReplyDeleteI love the idea of the Robin tucked into her twiggydown nest. Jack Frost certainly does create beauty in our world and you describe him so perfectly with your wonderful words:)
ReplyDeleteEnchanting imagery and words, always lovely.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful writer you are and I love the image.
ReplyDeleteYou do paint the most dreamy picture, how I wish I could whisk you over here with my new renovation project !!
ReplyDeletebeautiful and dreamy, I look forward to Frost painting on my windows, I miss snow and winter
ReplyDeleteThe last time I saw Jack Frost was over twenty years ago. But I remember his wild creations very well. Also, he seemed to paint best at night, when all eyes were closed. I am glad to read that he is still alive, and paints his master pieces in winter.
ReplyDeleteI love frost, the patterns can be so beautiful and it sparkles so, too!
ReplyDelete