At some point—I am not sure if there is an exact
temperature—frigid Arctic air converts snow, and sometimes the air itself, into
a mass of sparkles.
This spectacle is beautiful.
Such cold air poured down into our snow-filled valley
last night. Driving our country road
back home after a late dinner, that girl and I found ourselves in a bright sea
of high stars, untracked snow, and sparkles.
Our headlights continually washed across starkly white gatherings of ghost
trees and snow-softened rolls of land—all seemingly sprinkled-over with freshly
cut diamonds.
Sparkles swelled up and tumbled away from the tires of
our car as we drove on.
Virtually all points washed by our headlights exploded
into brilliant spangles against the cobalt night.
While I am not particularly fond of frigid
temperatures, the beauty produced by them has no equivalent.
--Mitchell
Hegman
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