I considered wind-chill for yesterday's revelation. You wouldn't see it in an advent window, but you'd sure feel it. We weren't winter-toughened yet. Probably felt like 15 degrees.
I took a stiff walk down to Spy Pond at sunset. Nice lemony sky, flecked by cloud flak. The pond troubled and aslosh with wind. And then the aha moment! Rimming the pond, miniature ice sculptures, as if fashioned by mouse artistes. Weeds all along the shore jacketed in ice. Fanged with ice. Stems leaning out with thin icicles like bird stockings hanging from a line. No ice on the pond, but this was the first step. The wind and the slosh moving from the outside in. Just as the coolest Wheatena is around the rim of the bowl. I walked along, inspecting. You could see stems and twigs imprisoned in thick ice parkas. Or more delicate filigrees. The art installation continued for yards in either direction. And a few inches inshore from the sculptures, beads of ice in the grass, waiting for a foothold.
So, time to take advent inventory: Full moon, No Man Can Live Alone, the sun, New York, American wigeons, a kid on a sled, an Aboriginal petroglyph, a swatch of carpenter's blue, winter rain, Swingin' on a Star, and iceweeds.