“If a solution fails to appear … and yet we feel success is just around the corner, try resting for a while. … Like the early morning frost, this intellectual refreshment withers the parasitic and nasty vegetation that smothers the good seed. Bursting forth at last is the flower of truth.”
― Santiago Ramón y Cajal, Advice for a Young Investigator
Winter is finally here at our little farm. We awoke to a hard frost that reached all the way from the flats on the river up to the orchard high on the hill behind our house.
Harry dog’s favourite toy, his stuffed penguin who’d been left outside overnight, was bristling with frost feathers.
Anywhere the grass was protected by the canopy of a tree you could still see green, but everything else was dusted with frost.
The dog water bowls and birdbaths are sealed with a shiny layer of ice. The air smells of bright clean frost and soil. A lovely smell.
Frost kills insect pests and sweetens the fruit hanging from the citrus trees. There will be fewer buffalo flies to annoy the cattle, fewer ticks this season. A good frost knocks them all out.
The grass is crunchy and stiff with the weight of tiny ice crystals.
Ordinary things become jewelled gifts.
I’m so grateful for the seasons, and their stunning play of beauty.