Frost is the condition that exists when the temperature of the air near the earth or earth-bound objects falls to freezing or lower (0 °C).
Alternately, frost or hoar frost describes a deposition of ice crystals on objects by direct sublimation of water vapour from the air.
How we mark the transitioning vapour as it falls upon our lives – the rise and fall of the emotions as they move from light to shadow, dusk to dawn. Language too builds layers of meaning, some buried deeply, like compressed snow, it falls then hardens in their depths, only to melt away and disappear with the changing seasons.
Before 900 – Middle English, hor ; Old English hār ; cognate with Old Norse hārr grey with age, Old Frisian hēr grey, Old High German hēr old ( German hehr august, sublime)
Old English har “hoary, gray, venerable, old,” the connecting notion being grey hair, from Proto-Germanic *haira (cf. Old Norse harr “gray-haired, old,” Old Saxon, Old High German her “distinguished, noble, glorious,” German hehr). German also uses the word as a title of respect, in Herr. Of frost, it is recorded in Old English, perhaps expressing the resemblance of the white feathers of frost to an old man’s beard. Used as an attribute of boundary stones in Anglo-Saxon, perhaps in reference to being grey with lichens, hence its appearance in place-names.
white hair’d limbs, chill’d air –
grasping at light clouded sky’s
kiss upon the earth.
Winter’s sublime age –
grey with rising crystal strands,
so my face grows frost .
Proudly lichen fiercely clings,
Counting out bordering years.
The Plasticman always rings My Lovely, every Wednesday at midnight. It is the same ending to every conversation, “Bats eat the fish bones of time“. It doesn’t matter now. I got my heater and he’s going to get a Harlem Gooseberry in his smiler before sunrise. Tooting the wrong ringer will get him a twist and crackle, and then he will jump like a flame in a tango bar. Once I’m done, he’ll be ready for the darkroom scanner.
Trigger man takes slugs,
Trip for biscuits gone south fast –
fish bones stick down deep……
The Loon glides past the tomato plants in our backyard – Suspended in time with the rest of the mural painted by my wife. The plants will pass away with the coming Fall, while the Loon continues in motionless movement through the grains of the wood board on which its reality clings.
the blue water ripples
across hard wooden surface –
frozen as winter;
ceaseless seasons cascade past,
how are we so different ?
I noticed that one of my older posts, Surreal Thursday: Passion Fruit and Mushrooms , had popped up as a top post. So for this Surreal Thursday, I am revisiting the images through some digital reconstructed reality.
A screen capture of the post included some icons of recent blogs I have visited. They include the following posts (links open in new window/tab, make sure to visit and view the original compositions).
Free Write Friday ~ My Breast Cancer Journey on a Jazz Lit Canvas featuring Coltrane’s “Softly, As In a Morning Sunrise.”
Four summers have past since that original post. Even our digital remains reflect that time ticks off the seconds, while we are caught up in whatever holds our attention at the moment, a flower, a photograph , or preparing a post for our blog. We think we are carving moments into permanence, while we are being twisted into new forms of self, like a flower becoming ripe fruit or a mushroom emerging from the the decay of a changing season.
lost here in summers-
past-petals fall quickly down,
twists of light remains
So I went out two weekends ago to drop recycling at the depot. As I arrived, I noticed a group of people standing across the road and looking over in the direction of the parking area of the depot. Looking to the left, I saw a rather large bear on its hind legs looking into a bin – a bear bin buffet. After nodding in agreement with the onlookers, I turned the car around and watched. Not only did I not have my camera, I forgot the cellphone.
The bear proceeded to swoop up a blue bag of recyclables ( no doubt smelled great to a bear) with one paw and carry it over to the side, examining contents for treats. Realizing recycling was out of the question, I proceeded back home – get the camera and see if my daughter & wife would like to see a bear or spot me while I try to bin again.
Alas, my daughter was not up to travel, so I returned on my own. Upon arrival, the onlookers had already dispersed, and there was one vehicle in the parking area; the occupants were just finishing up their deposit. Can you see where this is going ?
I then proceeded to unload the plastics – after which, I went to the cardboard allocated bins ( note the above photo, carefully ) with my blue box full of offerings to the recycle gods. Having emptied box of the offerings (trees’ memories-leaves of packaged print), I looked between the bins. About six to eight feet behind the bins is a snow fence, now partially collapsed, weary with weather and awaiting a lengthy summer holiday. As it happens, there was also the bear in a cautious amble proceeding in my direction. Either my cardboard, or I smelled of interest – thank goodness I had no BBQ sauce upon my chin or lapel, then again a scent to a bear’s nose can be long lasting (they can zero in on a smell from miles away).
As you can imagine, I did the Olympic blue box sprint to the car. At such a time, One’s mind must be clear and calm. I fleetingly recalled that bears, like their dog cousins, can be attracted to fleeing creatures. My next thought was of Shakespeare and that memorable stage direction from The Winter’s Tale (Act III, Scene 3), “Exit pursued by a bear.” The study of Literature, and the The Bard in particular, can be of great comfort, helping one put one’s life into perspective.
What now follows is a sequence of shots depicting the ramble of a bear among the bins in B &W – insights into a bear’s decision process are revealed. Pardon shots through car window – lowering glass was an option, but then again there was the matter of the BBQ sauce.
Sniffing out the the facts on paper.
Withdrawing to achieve a better perspective – i.e. I’m outta here.
Bear exits – pursued by none.
Nature ambles in –
paws at our weak pretensions,
Note: For other Bear encounters see Of Bread and Bear