Just When You Think You've Seen It All...

a moment when winter frost still surprises.

It was a really ordinary Saturday when I received a really fantastic gift. It was a moment in nature that I had never seen before.

First, a little background. Winter window frost is a bit of a favorite subject of mine. It has this ephemeral, variable, intricate beauty. It appears overnight, it interacts with light in endlessly fascinating ways, it’s desperately fleeting. It’s just lovely, and it never gets old. And there’s a very literal sense in which you’re always seeing window frost for the very first time - it will never form exactly the same way twice.

Still, it does typically follow certain patterns...

Droplets, dendrites, bubbles, ever patiently creeping across smooth expanses of available space, colonizing flat surfaces with relentless elegance.

But on this one particular day, I walked past our truck on the way to our firewood pile (mundane piled upon mundane) and stopped in awe.

By some unusually perfect combination of temperature, humidity, and air current, all night long, a meadow of frost crystals had sprouted out of the windows. Not spreading meekly across them, but loosing all bonds of gravity to stretch crystal fronds out into thin air.

Instead of frosty etchings, these were full six-point-symmetry snowflakes, typically reserved for formation in the lofty reaches of the atmosphere, now bursting improbably into full bloom, firmly rooted in glassy reflections, cultivated at eye-level.

So, um, I took so many photos. Because it’s unimaginable! And I understand that there are measurable, predictable physical principles that define how it’s possible. But I also know, standing there looking at a snowflake garden growing out of our truck windows, that the intricate formation of this beautiful phenomenon is far beyond the ability to calculate or even fully comprehend. And I also recognize that I’ve never seen it before and I very well may never see it again!

I held my breath so as not to melt my subjects. I positioned my hands so carefully so as not to disrupt this fragile, astonishing, momentary wonderland. I sent my husband and kids scurrying out to see for themselves. And then I put it all into this letter to share with you!

Sure enough, by lunchtime, the snowflake garden had disappeared without a trace, a slate wiped clean by a winter day’s hand, leaving me so grateful for a moment that didn’t pass me by.

Browse the Winter gallery for all these custom prints!

~ An Announcement ~
Beginning with the new year, I’ll be launching a serialized project for paid subscribers here on Substack. Book Moments will feature weekly installments of my published works, concluding with a downloadable .pdf version. Print and ebook versions will remain available for purchase through Amazon. For my first series, I will be sharing Sea Glass Portraits, a coffee-table-style book of portraits & poetry celebrating sea glass, tiny treasure of sea and shore. Looking forward to sharing in this new way!

If you like what you see, visit my online gallery for custom-print wall art and decor, and bring some moments of connection home to your everyday life!

Know anyone else who enjoys nature, photography, connection, and stories?

This Substack is free! Join me behind-the-scenes each week as I share the stories behind my nature photography gallery, capturing moments of connection in nature and everyday life. Paid subscriptions are available if you’d like to sponsor my work - I’m so grateful for your support!

Enjoy bringing the outside in? Come visit us at Riven Joiner & the Homestead Store for hand-crafted, nature-inspired Artisan Soaps, Woodworking & Home Goods.

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