Solst-ice

Winter's frozen gift

Oh friends, I just had to share this with you.

You may not be madly in love with winter like I am. I know a lot of us aren’t. And some of you in our Rx Nature community live in the Southern Hemisphere. You folks are baking in midsummer heat right now. Hopefully, wherever you are and however you feel about cold weather, you can revel in the gifts of this season.

The winter solstice, for me, is a time when Earth sheds her garments and shows us her beautiful bones. Poets speak about long nights and deep, introspective sleep. But there’s also the sparkling white loveliness of winter. The Earth may be hibernating, but even in her slumber she’s so alive.

Here in the Blue Ridge Mountains, we had a hard freeze last night. We’ve already had nights this month in the 30s and 20s, but none with temperatures this low. Here’s what the thermometer said at 7:17 a.m.

So I was raring all morning to get out in the woods and head to the cave across our creek. I knew what would be waiting there for me. It’s the highlight of my winter.

An Earth eye

The cave is not really a cave, but I like to call it that. It’s more of a rock shelter, a shallow opening at the base of the mountainside. Sometimes it looks to me like a great eye—an Earth eye, dark and mysterious.

Above the cave is a natural spring. Achingly cold water seeps out from somewhere deep in the Earth’s belly and trickles over the brow of the cave. If you stand there quietly, you’ll hear a constant drip drip drip as that sweet, pure liquid finds its way over the ledge. Because of the ever-present moisture, the rocks are a universe of ecstatic, wet mosses and liverworts.

We didn’t hit the trail today until after lunch. By then, the sun was high and the temperature had climbed to 44°F. I wasn’t worried, though. The cave is in deep shade. And the water that coats its rocky face freezes hard.

Here, my friends, is what we beheld as we walked up to the cave.

I tell you, it’s frozen magic. Incredible, intricate patterns suspended in time and space. Each icicle is one-of-a-kind, like snowflakes.

If the cave is an eye, these are its eyelashes.

Behold this icicle, preserving a beech leaf.

And here’s the symphony you hear as the icicles sing to the warming air.

The ledge that forms the brow of this Earth-eye wears a smooth jacket of ice. I put out my hand to feel its wet chill. Along the edge, freezing water has funneled into individual tendrils that gravity turns into icicles.

I want you to study one of those icicles, from top to bottom. This one’s encasing a root from the rhododendron that balances precariously atop the cave. Is this not an absolute wonder?

(Once the video starts, click on the icon to enlarge the image.)

And finally, friends, here’s a mystery I hope you can help me solve. In this video, we’re back at the upper edge of the cave, the ice-coated ledge where spring water sheets over the rock. If you look closely, you’ll see dark shapes moving beneath the ice. Every time the cave freezes, we spy these tiny, sperm-like swimmers, and I wonder what they are.

I know they’re most likely water droplets. Yes.

But … don’t they look like newly birthed tadpoles? I asked Google. It seems that tadpoles of some frog species hatch late in the year. They can withstand being in ice-covered water if it doesn’t last too long.

I also looked up videos of water droplets moving under ice. They look like this. So I suppose that’s what we have here.

Then again … the cave is a place of mystery, an eye in the Earth. Myriad life forms cling to those rocks, and sleep beneath the ice. This is a place where miracles happen, where moving water stands still, where winter creates a spectacle of frozen beauty.

Anything’s possible. Right?

Happy Winter Solstice, dear friends! I hope the season brings you joy and wonder.