This is our fourth winter living in Ark City just a few miles north of the Oklahoma state line. Yesterday was the first day we’ve had a really good, covering snow. After a few more days of gray and cold, the sun eased out late in the afternoon.
As I drove the few miles home, I lamented to myself having had to work too late to have a chance to get out and get some good snow pictures: woods, creeks, ponds, lakes, fields, hills or what have you. Too little daylight left.
As I pulled into the driveway, I saw a sheath of snow hanging from the hood of Randa’s truck. It had eased forward in the afternoon and curled down past the bumper. I quickly dug my digital 35mm SLR camera out of my backpack. Afraid the vibration of a closing door might be enough to break the sheath, I eased out and walked over to the front of the truck.
Several minutes later, I headed toward the house. I happened to look up and notice a few small icicles hanging from the gutter that edges the eave over the porch. Late sun patterned brilliant lines through the frozen shapes. When I stepped up onto the porch and looked back, I could see that the icicles that had formed along the bottom of the gutter were not even touching the bottom of the gutter. They were hanging from the upper edge but still had the right angle shape formed from the lower corner.
While the sunset faded into dusk, I took a few dozen pictures from different angles, fascinated by the way the light and background shapes played into the reflections and refractions.
We are often so mesmerized by distant spectacles that we fail to grasp the glory of what waits at our own door. God’s greatest works sometimes take the smallest form.