Ice lady

While it could be said that I am not always entirely ladylike, I prefer the term.

Ice woman grates a bit, no?

Back in my customer service days, I was called over one day to assist an agent who was having an altercation with a female passenger. In her plain hearing, the agent told me:

“This woman says….” I cringed.

Whatever came next was of no account since the passenger was now thoroughly offended. I was obliged to waive, overrule, swap a seat, or whatever the issue was, just to placate her.

How easily I get side-tracked. Writing about steam the other day I suddenly found myself reliving my early days visiting my grandmother in Wiltshire. Deciding the two didn’t fit, I detached them, putting family stories on hold.

When I went off on a tangent a second time, I decided the post was meant to go that way.

(Perhaps I’ll post the family piece tomorrow. It’s called Choices. Do not feel obliged to read it!)

However – this is supposed to be about ice. Actual ice, not THEM.

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Passing the weir in Greenwich one very frosty day, I noticed that the trees were highly decorated.

It’s a sight too pretty to pass up.

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Spray from water flowing over the weir freezes on contact.

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Brightly lit by a radiant Sun, it makes a lovely image.

At least to an admirer of frost!

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That day was bitterly cold but when the air is still and dry, I find it exhilarating.

Just for a few minutes. I’m not that hardy.

Indeed, not hardy at all now. The cold gets into my bones and last winter’s “ice palace” construction caused me lasting pain which is why I had to abandon the project this year.

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Perhaps I became focused on icicles in lieu.

Ice makes such interesting images.

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Because Grant cleaned off much of the roof, we had to wait for the snow to move down from the peak before we acquired our own set of icicles.

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Then they grew quite impressive, shining in dawn’s early light.

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At lunchtime I captured the above and next time I looked, that set of icicles was gone.

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Just as well no one was standing below.

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Presumably the combination of sunlight and warmth from the kitchen had been too much since elsewhere around the house, the icicles remained.

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As there’s no screen on my bathroom window, I was able to lean out to take a picture as the ice simmered in late afternoon sunight.

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More fallen icicles.

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A curious sort of preoccupation?

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Perhaps, but quite harmless.

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