The post office had some cool icicles the other day.
The grasses below collected and reforged their drops.
The post office had some cool icicles the other day.
The grasses below collected and reforged their drops.
Here’s my entry for Cee’s Fun Photo Challenge: Things That Are Rough. Some textured bark on a pine tree.
What was once an inviting, fluffy mountain of snow is now a dirty pile of chopped ice. It melts a little each day but freezes again at night. Try to play on this and you’ll slip, the rough chunks of ice scratching your hand as you brace your fall.
I featured this photo of the catci in a recent post about a trip to a rose garden last summer. Thanks to my friend Maria F., I now know their name: Opuntia humifusa. Thanks, Maria!
Here’s a very happy bee on a pointy thistle.
This is rough on an emotional level. When I read the note that was scratched into the painted-over glass windows on a padlocked door to an abandoned house, I couldn’t help but wonder about the circumstances. More photos and speculation in this post from several months ago.
I wonder if the dirt feels like it’s flying.
Turns out this familiar crunchy stuff is called needle ice, and a description of how it occurs can be found here.
Funny how things always have a name. I see this stuff occasionally and think, “Hey, there’s some of that crunchy dirt,” but never considered what it might be called. Nice to finally meet you, needle ice.
In response to this week’s photo challenge, weight(less). See also my first entry, Weightless Heart.
How could you cause us so much pain?
What broke inside you ere you fell?
The faith you sold for selfish gain
The glory you sought to attain
The guilt that soon will be your chain
Encasing you
Within the icy walls of Hell.
***
I’m participating in the A to Z Challenge for the month of April. The idea is to post every day, except Sundays, and end up with one post for each letter of the alphabet. It’s a good challenge to help me to blog every day.
I like living in a place that experiences all four seasons. I do like winter, but part of it is that I like to complain about winter. Grumbling about the cold, snow, wind, and ice kind of brings us all together. People you know, or people you don’t, all have one thing to say, “When is winter going to be over?” It gives us something to do while we’re waiting for spring to come along.