A reader once asked me what hoar frost was. Here is an example, on the inside bolt and latch of the barn’s dutch door. It is the exhalations of my patient cows and sheep, crystallized at -20° F on narrow surfaces just like sugar crystals on cotton string in sixth grade science experiments.
When I roll open the barn doors in the morning at those temperatures, every loose stalk of hay is frosted into a sparkler. The cows’ whiskers, normally invisible, look like white stars radiating from their muzzles. It’s all very pretty, and very cold.
Neato frito, eh?
Hoar frost is beautiful, and so is the word picture you painted… the ordinary life becomes sparklers and stars.
I hope I get to see hoar frost one day, but I think I’m glad I don’t live with it. The frost in my freezer is enough for me to deal with!
Hope you are well.
What part of the country is this taken??
Northern New York State.