Had a spirited conversation yesterday with a member of our church about the glory that is Fall. The leaves turning. The smell. The mountains changing color. The smell of wood stoves (don’t have one myself and have to live vicariously through others). Fall is a glorious time. And, while I do love the snow, I hope to hold onto the crisp cold mornings and the afternoon sunshine of Fall, glorious Fall.
And one of the best parts of this time of year is that thin, crisp layer of ice on the puddles in the road. I love hearing the crunch under my feet and as I’m out for a walk I find it almost impossible not to stomp on them…making sure each layer of ice has been crushed as I’m out and about. I’m like a little kid when I come across a big puddle that has yet been touched by foot or by car. It is pure joy.
Late this morning the same member with whom I had been speaking gave me a call. She said, “Jim can you hear this.” There was a crunch. She said, “It’s puddle ice. Go out and get yourself some.”
I was a little late to the party as the sun had come up and melted most of the ice. But there were some puddles that had stayed in the shade and were waiting for me. These are pictures of one of those wonderful puddles of ice.