gor[b] Paul Gorbould: Words and Pictures

Frost

On Boxing Day in Woodstock, Ont., we woke up to see an amazing glazing of spiky frost covering everything. The walnut tree behind my mother's house looked more like an acacia, and I had to go outside to see the spikes up close.

Some were about 3 cm long, and so light that they almost flaked off when you looked at them. It was mild out, and as the morning sun rose the flakes fluttered down from above like the lightest snowfall imagineable.

I gather this is what's called hoarfrost, which forms when it's mild and windless. The lengths of the crystals were almost unbelievable, like those ads for the ultimate mascara want you to believe.

Magic.