Ice, Ice Baby

I have been through entirely too many ice storms, but there is something fascinating about the formation of crystals on a solid surface.  I find myself intrigued by how it sticks to grass—it attaches to each blade separately until a lawn resembles a sculpture, each piece visible and delicate in its intricacy.
There’s something fascinating about when the sun comes out and it all goes away.  It drips from the trees and it seems as though the world is melting.  I know these thoughts are random, but they are my own.