March 31: Crisp, icy morning

It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it. John Burroughs

I felt all these things on our walk this morning, with winter still hanging on. The air was crisp, and the ground hard as a rock with crystals of ice and frost, but the sun shone soul through everything - lighting up the beauty that we often walk past and don't even notice.