Cold, Cold, Cold....

I love the cold.  Did I ever mention that before?  I really do love being outside in at- or below-freezing temperatures, especially on clear winter days. It's the kind of weather that's great for brisk walks to the post office, grocery store or library here in town, topped off with a stop at one of several coffee shops and then a return home to a welcoming fire.

On top of my need for a cold-temperature fix, I've become a regular junkie for ice. One Facebook friend in Idaho takes the most beautiful pictures of hoarfrost and frozen ponds. Another here in Montana focuses on icy edges of mountain streams.

One morning recently, as temps plunged to a low of 10 degrees F. and sun inched above houses across the street, I headed out for my car on the way to a volunteer job. But once car-side, I had to stop and stare. Ice crystals covered each and every window. They were swirling and feathery and very distinct. I hated the idea of scraping them off. I delayed turning on my heater. Instead, I sat in the frigid car and took pictures from inside out, of crystalline curves as the sun rose over houses and trees across the street.

Feathery ice crystals on my car window, at 10 degrees one recent morning.

Another day, I accepted a photographer friend's invitation for a "photo safari." It was dreary and raining slightly. I wondered what we could possibly find to shoot.

A misty morning above Bear Creek, in the Bitterroot Mountains.

Up and up we drove, on icy roads and under increasingly gloomy skies.  We stopped at the Bear Creek Trail parking area. It was when we got out of the car and into a drizzle that dampened our hair and made each breath turn to mist that we saw how lucky we were. Bear Creek -- up close, cold and personal -- became a winter wonderland.

Closer to the creek.

One rock, topped with needles and fringed by an ice skirt.

Another rock, edged with ice on one side and rushing water on the other.

The source of those yellow needles -- a larch forest, creek side. Larches are deciduous conifers. They turn any forest floor from brown or green to the color of mustard.

Creek ice takes on an eerie quality as water freezes, thaws, crystallizes and bubbles into shapes.

Midwestern folks had said to me, "You're moving to Montana?!! Have you spent a winter there?!" I answered an enthusiastic "Yes!" And nearly three winters in, I second that emotion. I've scoured Missoula's REI store, of course, for every kind of thermal layer, hat, shoe and glove. We insert little packets of air-activated heat (non-toxic) into our cross-country ski wear, especially the shoes and mittens. So we do "cold" in a pretty smart kind of way.

Me among the larches. (Photo by Mel Holloway)

And we are anticipating snow plus the coldest temperatures so far this year, on Wednesday -- minus 9 degrees F. predicted for that night. But who's counting? I have to say, I love the cold more than ever.

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Footnote: The temperature today, Sat. Dec. 7,  was -1 as we volunteers gathered outside to help county folks recycle, at a new not-for-profit, citizen-owned facility. Brrrr. The sun and calm winds saved us.

Here we are, from left: my friend Shelley Phillips and me, plus two other volunteers who gathered -- as we all did -- around a propane stove...

         

...A couple of Hotties, right? Not us, the brand of  hand and foot warmers, above, that gets me through the frigid temps.  (I still do like "cold.")

Copyright © 2013, Becky Homan