First Frost (Revised)

An Essay By Libby // 8/20/2020

The ice-frosted grass glistens in the soft light of dawn. Glassy beads of dew bend the slender, white blades—bowing, as it seems, to hail the morning. Thrills of anticipation ring in my chest. I close my eyes, imagining the first step to mar the pure whiteness; the delicious, crisp odor of the air stinging my lungs; the satisfying crunch of ice as it crumbles beneath my feet. Shivers of delight course through my veins.

I force my lids to lift.

Cartops and windows are glazed over with filmy crusts. Dark mushrooms dotting the field are fringed with white trimming, a frozen filigree as delicate as queen’s lace—beauty in itself! The horizon is edged with a pale-yellow hue that melts into the clear sapphire of the sky.

The sun is just peeking through the trees, casting its aureate light upon patches of the silver world. Her fingertips reach to graze the pale rooftops dipped in ice. The ruby of the maple lace is bathed in a blaze of bright as, beneath it, a knife of light slowly cuts through the icy grass.

The silver, ghost-like light cast into our little house is slowly giving way to the brazen glare of sunlight.

I sigh. The fresh morning is tainted.

My perfect world is melting, bit by bit. As the sun toils to thrust herself over the treetops, she heaves a sigh; her sultry breath sweeps through the frosted meadow.

For one sacred moment, nature’s crystal garment glitters in the sunlight like a thousand stars, winking a thousand greetings to a transiently glorified world. For one blessed second, day meets the innocent dawn, and creation tingles with their first radiant kiss.

But it is not to last. With one final push, treacherous sun casts herself into the sky with a heavy groan. Her feverish fragrance seeps relentlessly into the earth, and the fresh sparkle of first-light is smothered.

I watch as steam begins to rise above the last frosted fence top. Drops of water catch the sun’s rays, their astral gleam dissolved.

Golden beams, like ropes, pull the sun from its hiding place behind the trees. Its warmth bursts free, banishing the mystic beauty of this ice-shrouded land.

Day has begun.

My world is not perfect anymore.

But tomorrow will come again—and with it, a new dawn.

Comments

I love the imagery! It's

I love the imagery! It's absolutely beautiful! (Shivers). I am looking forward to the beauty of winter, though not really looking forward to the cold. Oh well. Nice job!

Allyson D. | Tue, 09/15/2020

Jill L. Boone

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

:)

Thank you, Allyson - that means a lot to me <3
I know, right? I absolutely love white wintery days, but I know I'll miss the warmth when they come. : ) Keeping you in my prayers, Allyson - hope you are doing well!

Libby | Sun, 09/27/2020

“The gospel alone is the power of God unto salvation.
Therefore, suffer, yes. Be misunderstood, yes. Be shamed, yes. But do not be ashamed. For the joy set before you, take up your cross, follow Jesus, be shamed and despise the shame!" -- John Piper