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Beautiful
Walked home today. It was...almost raining, I suppose you could say. There was a sort of frozen mist in the air that stung as it struck my face.
And everywhere there was glittering cut-glass perfection. The grass was like something out of an alien landscape, coated completely in ice with little round balls on top, as if they were a mixture of grass blades and chess pawns. People's yards looked like they were spun out of glass with a thread of green dye underneath, with the most perfect lightness of color. Every one was a different tint, and they all looked like they were life-sized versions of some delicate crystal version of houses created by some artist.
The ice had grown in the oddest ways...a stalk that was covered in the faintest protrusions where the flowers had come out had regrown the buds in see-through form, like a scepter for a snow fairy.
As I walked, I could watch my breath turn white and I watched it float ahead of me, like it was walking with me, leading the way, wobbling and shifting and disappearing into faintness like the ghost of a willow-o-wisp.
There was the dangling thread of an old spiderweb that had a half-dozen balls hanging on it in a row, the size of small marbles, and each one was apart from the others, so that it looked like the balls were floating, hanging down in a line one above the other and spinning around in the small breezes.
And the branches of trees were coated in the ice, a coating thicker than the twigs they were on, and they were the exact color of nothingness.
And everywhere there was glittering cut-glass perfection. The grass was like something out of an alien landscape, coated completely in ice with little round balls on top, as if they were a mixture of grass blades and chess pawns. People's yards looked like they were spun out of glass with a thread of green dye underneath, with the most perfect lightness of color. Every one was a different tint, and they all looked like they were life-sized versions of some delicate crystal version of houses created by some artist.
The ice had grown in the oddest ways...a stalk that was covered in the faintest protrusions where the flowers had come out had regrown the buds in see-through form, like a scepter for a snow fairy.
As I walked, I could watch my breath turn white and I watched it float ahead of me, like it was walking with me, leading the way, wobbling and shifting and disappearing into faintness like the ghost of a willow-o-wisp.
There was the dangling thread of an old spiderweb that had a half-dozen balls hanging on it in a row, the size of small marbles, and each one was apart from the others, so that it looked like the balls were floating, hanging down in a line one above the other and spinning around in the small breezes.
And the branches of trees were coated in the ice, a coating thicker than the twigs they were on, and they were the exact color of nothingness.
no subject
Oh, Happy Birthday soon!
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Oh man...I wish I knew what that was called, I've seen it once before and I took pictures because it was so freaking WEIRD...sigh.
Ice coating everything...I don't see that much. The best kind of weather is when it's so cold it hurts and everything's covered in thick frost.