Jaci Dawn

Woke up to a beautiful white world. No snow, but a good heavy frost.

I never tire of the beauty of frost.

I get a little tired of the cold sometimes, but never tired of the beauty. It even transforms Himalayan blackberries into something of beauty.

(In case you are not aware, Himalayan blackberries are the scourge of the Pacific Northwest. Some well-meaning soul brought them over and planted them and they found the climate to their liking. They invaded, pushing back the native blackberries and anything else in their path. They grow to over ten feet in height and create formidable fortresses of sharp leather-piercing barbs. They are next-to-impossible to get rid out.)

Aside from my deep-rooted dislike for that particular variety of blackberry, there is the frost. And the frost makes the vine beautiful.

Beauty.

A powdered-sugar coating of ice that makes life just a little bit sweeter.