Winter and Jack Frost

A good friend has written a delightful fairy tale about Jack Frost, partly inspired by my lit-tree photos, and I am honored to share it with you. I hope you like it, and it sparks some wonder on a cold autumn night. ūüôā Cheers, Brenda


There were only shadows and silhouettes when the little sprite-like

one awoke from his long, extended nap. The seasons had changed

while he slept and he¬†looked around, not seeing his special ‚Äėtouch‚Äô

upon the land yet. He stretched his arms out and shrugged his thin

shoulders, shaking out his stiff joints, while wrapping his coat closely

around him.

The elfin man crept out from under the bridge, ready to dip his toes

into the chilly stream. He shivered with excitement and knowing it

was TIME.

As the water changed from moving sluggishly, freezing into a sheet of

ice, he tiptoed up the bank and left his tiny, crystalline footprints behind.

He hopped over the rock that led to the grass and he slowed.

He stopped.

He took one big breath IN! His lungs burned with the extremely brittle air.

He let one foggy (water vapored) breath OUT!

He prepared himself.

He took his hand from under his woolen blanket jacket and…

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