Okay, at least it’s a dry cold
It’s 2° C now at 2:30 p.m. here in Vancouver, B.C., and the temperature certainly wasn’t any higher earlier this morning.
At about 9:40 a.m., I was up on Yukon Street in the Mount Pleasant neighbourhood. The street was definitely living up to its namesake and if I had to guess, I’d say that the thermometer was hovering around brisk — if not verging on crisp.
It was the sort of bone-dry cold that’s easy to bundle up against though, so that was okay.
There wasn’t a cloud in the ice-blue sky and the crystal clarity of the chill air encouraged visions of brown squirrels poking their heads out from among the white snow-covered pine trees carpeting the distant North Shore Mountains.
Jack Frost (no relation to Robert) nipping at your nose
If the far-away trees looked frosty, it was also true that up-close the frost could look rather tree-like — depending where and how one was looking.
On the PVC plastic lid of a typical four cubic yard capacity dumpster, thick frost resolved at magnification as piled-up rectilinear crystals but on the green painted metal sides of the same dumpster, the frost was less thick but far more elaborately formed; branching out in beautiful fractal patterns over the cold steel, similar to the way that it would spread over cold glass.
I can’t begin to tell you why frost forms this way. I just know that it does and that it’s another one of those inexplicably amazing things that’s happening all around me, all the time, just waiting for me to stop and notice — or not. Click the images to enlarge them.