Once again I have found myself in a garden where the flowers are made of ice and the dirt is white. I walk out the back door and head up a semi steep hill up up up to a level trail. There is already snow in my my boot, but I don’t care much. On this tromp, I am with Jessica, my daughter, and we seem to both be savoring the time together. We are making our way to a waterfall that has frozen itself into the most dazzling art. There is no italian avant-garde sculptor that could do any better. This is brilliant. Some ice is clear and lickable and some is milky and sometimes you can see the water underneath swimming like fish. We are 9,000 feet above sea level and we are cold, but warmed deep inside by this icey display. I am with my dear loved one and seeing true art; life at it’s best.
- December 2009
- December 2010