Ring out, wild bells to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
The frosted flowers of the most beautiful hoar frost covered the branches here a couple of days ago.
I took the scenic route home from the post office that morning to capture it all. For a while I was wandering alone, it seemed just me and the rooks, in the Snow Queens icy land, a fairytale landscape. A glimpse in time, before the sun warmed it back to liquid to trickle down stems and drip off branches, to seep down and water the sleepy earth.
The gentle sound of the river flowing, my footsteps on hard frozen ground, ice cracking. Delicate whispers, of fragments brushing against my coat. Silver shards tinkling, almost bell like.
The skeleton of nettles wearing ice fur coats.
~*~Now, the night has arrived on this old and last day of the year. It has been a good one for me and I feel extremely blessed. Thank you for taking the time to stop by here in 2014. I appreciate all of your comments and read each and every one, even if I don't always get around to replying.
I look forward to sharing more things in 2015.
Happy New Year to you!