The upper garden was untouched by frost but the back field, which slopes downward,did not escape the ice crystals.
The days are golden now
as the trees change their wardrobe toward the inevitable nakedness of dormancy.
The ferns have a sharp fragrance in their decline and the tapestry of ice
accentuates their fine form. An annual weed grass has been growing in the compost heap this summer. It has commanded attention due to its' coarseness and stature. The seed heads are large and attractive and the frost has given them a squirrel's tail softness.
Frost does seem to bring out the minute details with its' etching characteristics. It won't be long before it reaches the upper garden but the very frost sensitive morning glories are continuing to bud and bloom
while still pushing out new growth
seemingly oblivious to their inevitable end. Has Jack Frost hit your garden yet?