Ramble with Storm: Hoar frost on a red dawn

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Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, our family’s mixed Lab.

I stepped off 51 strides from the end of the plowing by the town workers and the the side rail separating the town from the wildness of the town pond.

So it is about 50 yards of a buffer between the civilized and the wild.

I don’t why I like that definiteness so much, but I do.

Just a stunningly beautiful morning, one of those where I wish I was a real photographer.

At some point in the night, we had radiational cooling, which hung heavy hoar frost on trees everywhere, even in town. The scene above

The key sentence in the definition of hoar frost in the National Weather Service glossary is the first:

A deposit of interlocking crystals formed by direct sublimation on objects, usually those of small diameter fr/eely exposed to the air, such as tree branches, plants, wires, poles, etc.

That certainly describes this morning. My guess is we dropped below 0 overnight before the southwest winds began blowing and stirred the air to mix in some of the warmer (warmer being relative).

The white light hoar frost was even more spectacular against a dawn that came painting the under side of the clouds mauve and the back side a deep blue.

On the weather, I am curious to see where we ended up in the snow rankings. This is one time we will be near the top. I measured between 4 and 5 inches last night when I was shoveling and we got another half inch after I finished.

Surprisingly lively morning.

A gray squirrel and a black squirrel squirted around trees and the yards, a street over as we set out.

Another gray squirrel loped along the fence by the ball field.

The Canada geese on the lake to the west were raising a major racket this morning, but they did not fly out. My guess is they will finally be frozen out for good, well, at least a week or so, later this week.

But for now, they yak.

The meathead had his full inner Lab out this morning and was frolicking (I think that is the precise word) around in the snow.

Back home, another gray squirrel hopped across the street. The faintest of snow flurries or hoarfrost blowing off teams sprinkled the air.

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