Morning light streaks across the sky filtering through the trees as they sway. Glistening there in the early morning light the beautiful gift of frost on the farm. Crunching beneath our foot steps; cracking under hooves and feet- the icy sounds as the farm animals stir from their stalls. Hens rush forth in a flutter stirring the crunchy ground as Willow is wary of the unusual texture of the ground beneath her.
The garden is painted in frosty wonder; white lace on deep green. Under the frost cloth greens still thrive, now tasting sweeter with the touch of icy air. Rare and unique, precious it seems- the patterns and pictures in the frost on the farm. Dustings of feather light sparkles grace the fences and cover the picnic table like spun sugar. The tractor sits in glistening light beside the greenhouse in the glittery field; patiently waiting for plowing to resume.
The only winter we ever see; a striking sight- here in the deep south. Today we marvel at the lacy artwork drawn by the hand of God in the frost on the farm.