Icicles and Druids...
As our snowfall gradually melts off, sending it's well needed moisture back to the Mother, and our nights stay frigidly cold, icicles have formed in some of the shaded areas of buildings. Some of these crystalline wonders are right outside the back door of my work, where I do my morning practices. I attempted to get pictures with my phone's camera, but alas they were too dark to be visible.
I've had the distinct pleasure over the past few days to see them form, grow, and change. The melt on the roof through the day and into the evening has never left them the same from day to day. Some have clarified to crystalline perfection, rivaling the most perfect diamond. Others have occlusions from errant matter being frozen within them, adding unique dimensions on how the light plays on and within them. One has been steadfast and grown every day, causing it to be almost as thick as a broom handle and nearly a foot and a half long. Some grow in the evenings and then recede to almost nothing by the next afternoon. A few have already disappeared completely. A most unique one has forked about two thirds of the way down, it's offshoot at an almost physically impossible looking angle. One has shattered near the roof edge and is gradually building itself back up. Smooth surfaces, wavy, twisted, jagged. Blunt tips, needle-fine tips, straight down or skewed at an angle. Straight columns or almost free-form sculpts.
No two are even close to identical. Why? They've all been subjected to nearly identical climate, temperature, wind, the flow of snow-melt. They're all merely water being held at the freezing point with a few bits of errant mater mixed in. Naught more than frozen water, hydrogen and oxygen molecules aligned in a crystalline structure. Surely not rocket science on the why-for's and what-how's of their being. Yet, each one with characteristics and flaws that no other one has. Some will be on their way back into the water cycle before others, some will hold steadfast until nature says it's time to go.
As individual as their minute cousins, the snowflake.
As quirky as Druids that watch such things and ponder...
I've had the distinct pleasure over the past few days to see them form, grow, and change. The melt on the roof through the day and into the evening has never left them the same from day to day. Some have clarified to crystalline perfection, rivaling the most perfect diamond. Others have occlusions from errant matter being frozen within them, adding unique dimensions on how the light plays on and within them. One has been steadfast and grown every day, causing it to be almost as thick as a broom handle and nearly a foot and a half long. Some grow in the evenings and then recede to almost nothing by the next afternoon. A few have already disappeared completely. A most unique one has forked about two thirds of the way down, it's offshoot at an almost physically impossible looking angle. One has shattered near the roof edge and is gradually building itself back up. Smooth surfaces, wavy, twisted, jagged. Blunt tips, needle-fine tips, straight down or skewed at an angle. Straight columns or almost free-form sculpts.
No two are even close to identical. Why? They've all been subjected to nearly identical climate, temperature, wind, the flow of snow-melt. They're all merely water being held at the freezing point with a few bits of errant mater mixed in. Naught more than frozen water, hydrogen and oxygen molecules aligned in a crystalline structure. Surely not rocket science on the why-for's and what-how's of their being. Yet, each one with characteristics and flaws that no other one has. Some will be on their way back into the water cycle before others, some will hold steadfast until nature says it's time to go.
As individual as their minute cousins, the snowflake.
As quirky as Druids that watch such things and ponder...
posted by Tully Reill at
6:07 PM
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