Sire, you are an august and mighty monarch; have pity on a poor honest man who would be more incapable of inflaming a revolt than an icicle of producing a spark.
—Victor Hugo

Here in New York, I only see ice dripping down boulders in Central Park, and on the edges of walks where the powder was never cleared when it first fell. But in Virginia, the snow falls overnight, and the morning warms the air enough to send down freezing rain. Ice on snow, ice on snow. And so layer upon layer covers everything like a wintry german chocolate cake, encrusted with a slippery, glistening layer of coconut-pecan icing on top (recipe here).

The supposed but never realized Christmas greeting for this season was to have several layers, including a story much as this one. Of things known and unknown, the continued transition to city mouse from country mouse, and the subtle things that change in a season with only a mere change in geography. While in the moment, the creation of this window view into winter was purely iconic of the holidays... over time I am recognizing the ways - big and small - that my life and all around me is moving. Even as I sit here in the still night, watching the snow fall and thinking of the ice-covered trees of home.