The First Frost

When I was young and used to spend a lot of time with my Grandparents because they lived around the corner. My Grandma, Grandpa and Dad always used to say that Jack Frost had been out when there was a frosty morning. The way my Grandma used to describe him as impish sprite who danced around the garden painting everywhere with his frost crystal paintbrush appealled to my imagination. I could just see him with his paint pot full of sparkles adding glistening flourishes around the garden. There is something magical about gloriously bright crisp frosty mornings. I particularly like seeing the frost on the pavement. Concrete and tarmac are usually so dull and grey but with a glittering of dust from Jack Frost they become dazzling.

White frost crusted grass, bright sunshine and clear blue skies definately make me smile. I even like the feel of the cold air on my cheeks. I wish I could get out of bed early in the morning to go for a jog, because there is nothing I like more than running in the cold as the sun comes up, but it is a difficult time so for today I will just hold on to the smiles.

I was also happy that I had actually been quite organised at the end of last winter (another first) and had put all the cold weather clothing together in a drawer, so Charlie, Josie and I all had gloves or mittens to wear this morning. It really does pay to be organised and it makes life so much easier. I wish that once things have been organised that they just stayed that way and didn't get Charlied. Charlie even wore his mittens for the whole time we were out on the school run, which has never happened ever, despite all my best efforts. Charlie is a child who does not respond well to changing seasons. In heatwaves he will insist on wearing his winter pyjamas and following in his sister's footsteps, considers jumpers to be some kind of torture. Long sleeves t-shirts were invented for my children and they see no reasons why they should not wear them come rain, shine, frost, heatwave or snow.

Frost is also perfect for leaving messages in but just as Richard Frost so eliquently captures in his poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay"; the sun melted the messages before Mark saw them.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

by Robert Frost (1874-1963)


Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
For nothing gold can stay.

For my dear friend Viki (The Outsiders) - Stay Gold x