Winter’s freezing dawn
Creates an abstract work of art;
Trees rise ghostly
In deliciously cold lilac dresses;
And the ancient church
Floats in clouds of pink.
Cold and startling and beautiful –
Another gift from nature.
For more gifts, please visit: Skywatch.
Yesterday the temperature dropped down to minus 25 C
In the frosted early morning.
I went out on the ice – but stayed out way too long -
One and a half hours… With no breakfast.
Came back with a frost damaged face
And spent the rest of the day in bed sick.
Just goes to show that you shouldn’t
Be bound by your limits –
But you should know what your limits are!
Thank you in advance for your kind comments – I won’t be replying to them today
As I need to recover.
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The sun – just like life -
Burns us not with its heat,
But with its passion,
And its golden glow.
(And yes, it was a very cold sunset!)
For more golden skies, please visit: Skywatch.
I wake to a world of plummeting temperatures and snow.
Minus 25 C. It’s cold. Very cold.
My glasses are white with a thick layer of ice.
Not a bus or train in sight. Freezing.
I’m on the verge of giving up the wait.
Then, suddenly, a sound…
Beating out a message on the frozen bark of a tree.
It’s a drum roll that speaks of determination,
Of patience and hope.
Of the promise of better things to come.
For more messages, please visit: Camera Critters.
Imagine if you will …
Cold winter sunshine,
An iced over lake swarming with dog walkers and ice skaters,
Temperatures well below freezing.
Suddenly, on the way home, we arrive at the little bridge over the cold stream feeding into that frozen, frozen lake.
It’s the only open water for miles around and the meeting place for shivering ducks.
And yet – it is tempting, so tempting.
“Will I? Won’t I?”
It’s refreshing, very refreshing!
After taking the plunge, Oscar shakes diamonds into the air and trots home, satisfied with his long winter walk.
Life is so much better when you carry sunny weather in your heart…
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- 25 C out. Swaddled like a penguin, I march out with the dog in defiance of the cold.
Glowing cheeks, icicles in nose, frosty eyelashes.
Mountains of snow to thrill and chill.
Feeling frozen. Living in this Viking freezer.
Suddenly, a warming sight greets me.
A golden sun painting the scene with warm yellow tones.
Beauty that takes my breath away and leaves me
Anticipating the next cold walk at sunset.
For more Christmas skies, please visit: Skywatch!
I’m British, so of course, I like to talk about the weather! After all, what can be more fickle (apart from politicians)?
Since I moved to Sweden 13 years ago, I’ve had to get used to sights like this one…
Are you sure you can bear it? Oh – the snow, the ice, the bone-chilling cold…
However, if you can dance on the ice, then you can triumph over the cold!
And then, in really chilly weather, you might come across this…
If you’re squeamish, please close your eyes now!
…. Are your eyes averted?
That’s right – frosted hair! (My neighbour usually has lovely brown hair.)
Why is she smiling?
Well, it might just have something to do with views like this!
I’m not sure I can bear anymore though…
So much cold beauty to enjoy!
For more gorgeous views, please visit: My World!
We’re having lovely crispy nostril-hair-freezing-and-cracking kind of weather.
But look at that glorious morning sun!
While on the subject of the weather…
Once, a long time ago, BK (before kids), Sir Pe and I decided to go up to the very north of Sweden again – to Lapland – and stay at the now world-renowned Ice Hotel. Yes – you guessed it! It is a hotel made entirely of ice that melts and then is re-built every year with the ice sawn out of the local river: The Torne River. The huge pristine ice blocks are truly beautiful to behold and are of a shimmering greenish colour.
Situated 200 km north of the Arctic Circle, it gets pretty darn cold! And it’s dark all day long when the days are at their shortest. You never would have guessed it: but cold and darkness are experiences that people from all over the world come for! (Hey! They could come and live with us for half the price…) The hotel boasts its own bar, bowling alley, chapel (for christenings and weddings) and cinema, amongst other things. The suites are sculpted by ice sculptors that compete to come here from all corners of the globe (well, if a globe had corners, that is).
The suite we stayed in had a big ice bed covered in hides, a fireplace and logs carved out of ice, prettily lit up with candles as well as ice chairs and table. When you check in, you are given a big snowsuit and thick boots, hats and gloves to borrow because the average indoor temperature is about – 8 C. Luckily, the year we went was the first time they had indoor toilets. Still, it was quite a chilly walk there and back in the middle of the night. And although I got into the ultra-warm sleeping bag with hat and socks on, I was very warm during the night and ended up taking off the hat as well as a jumper.
Thanks for asking: yes, I had a delightfully refreshing sleep! I urge you all to try it at least once in your lives! And, of course, one of the main attractions of the deep, bone-chilling cold are the northern lights. Natural fireworks, sheets of shimmering silk, scarves of untold beauty.
Anyway, although it was March when we went up there, it was still pretty cold. Bitterly cold, in fact at a perky – 35 C! I repeat: minus 35 C. The cold is a dry cold, which makes it far more bearable, and for a while it was OK. Sir Pe and I used a ‘spark’ – a kind of sled thingy that you kick (you can see a whole load of them parked outside the hotel in the big blue photo above) – to visit the local church and then a Sami tent, where we ate polar bread and heard Sami stories.
The problem arose on the way back to the guesthouse (we only stayed at the actual ice hotel one night). I guess that I had cooled off a bit too much in the smoky tent, so once outside again, kicking our way back along the road – about 2 km – to the restaurant, my body decided to whimper out on me and shut down without so much as a thank-you.
My hands were the first to go: they were so cold that I lost all feeling. In fact, I just wanted to stop and lie down and go to sleep. Luckily, Sir Pe nagged and cajoled me until we reached the warmth of the restaurant.
That’s where the problems really started! You see, going from -35 C to +20 C is quite a temperature difference for the body to cope with, and as the blood started rushing back to my white dead fingers, the pain was excruciating. Unbearable. So unbearable that I started wailing and crying out loud. That got people looking! We even skipped the queue as we were shown to a table immediately.
More whimpering meant that we were served in double quick time. The other tourists looked on with barely-concealed horror, but the locals regarded me with pity.
I got the feeling that they too, at least once in their lives, had experienced the pain of the cold that makes you cry out loud.
This is a public apology to the weather gods – especially to the Greek god Boreas (also known as Aquilo if you speak Latin). For Boreas is the god of the North Wind (either that or he ate too many beans last night), and it is he who comes flying over the northern countries, breathing on us with his icy breath.
And being a god, he is rather fickle, to say the least. And very sensitive. (Such is the male ego!) You see, there I was complaining about the weather, when – in fact – we were actually having a heatwave. Soon after yesterday’s post hit the Internet, the temperatures decided to plunge headlong downwards: not to hell, but to where hell freezes over.
OK – so it was only -21 C, but that really did feel a bit cold. Biting even on the cheeks (the ones on my face, dear readers).
As you know, people tend to have a good side in profile, and a bad side – well, that is what they would have us believe when we are taking their picture anyway.
I’ve discovered that I have a rosy apple-cheeked side and a flaking, peeling, chapped side. My left side obviously thrives in the cold weather, and I come back all sparkly-eyed and red-cheeked after being outside. My right side is definitely the wrong side when exposed to cool weather: my eye starts weeping, the tears congeal on my cheek, causing the skin to crack and flake. Very unappealing (or unappeeling, if you like).
But I digress. Back to my apology.
You see – as soon as I started bad-mouthing Boreas, the temperatures plummeted like a hot air balloon losing gas. So, now that I am making a public apology, they will soon rise again, like high hopes or the cost of living.
Because that’s the way weather works.