Friday, 24 January 2014

Jack Frost Strikes Again

This time it was the beautiful fern like patterns of frost on the greenhouse glass which caught my attention. These were taken with the Nikon S9050, processed in Photomatrix Pro and then in Irfanview as the originals have very little contrast:





Each window had a different pattern. I was lucky as they had all melted within 15 minutes of these photographs being taken.


  1. Beautiful patterns John. Nature is pretty clever really.

    1. Roy. Nice the way they are always different. Probably a good thing but we often miss out on these with our centrally heated homes.

  2. they really are gorgeous. ice ferns, indeed.

  3. So beautiful. I am amazed at the work Jack Frost does.

    1. They are Bonnie. We stay warm and cosy with double glazing but miss out seeing the beauty of frost patterns.

  4. They are good to see I'm still waiting.

  5. I found a poem on this site of Jack Frost poetry that seems to fit your fantastic frosty filigreed fenetres ~

    Jack Frost, a poem
    by Gabriel Setoun

    The door was shut, as doors should be,
    Before you went to bed last night;
    Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
    And left your window silver white.

    He must have waited till you slept;
    And not a single word he spoke,
    But pencilled o’er the panes and crept
    Away again before you woke.

    And now you cannot see the hills
    Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane;
    But there are fairer things than these
    His fingers traced on every pane.

    Rocks and castles towering high;
    Hills and dales, and streams and fields;
    And knights in armor riding by,
    With nodding plumes and shining shields.

    And here are little boats, and there
    Big ships with sails spread to the breeze;
    And yonder, palm trees waving fair
    On islands set in silver seas,

    And butterflies with gauzy wings;
    And herds of cows and flocks of sheep;
    And fruit and flowers and all the things
    You see when you are sound asleep.

    For, creeping softly underneath
    The door when all the lights are out,
    Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe,
    And knows the things you think about.

    He paints them on the window-pane
    In fairy lines with frozen steam;
    And when you wake you see again
    The lovely things you saw in dream.

    1. Glo: Thanks for that and the link.
      Here's another....

      Jack Frost

      by Helen Bayley Davis

      Someone painted pictures on my
      Windowpane last night –
      Willow trees with trailing boughs
      And flowers, frosty white,

      And lovely crystal butterflies;
      But when the morning sun
      Touched them with its golden beams,
      They vanished one by one.

  6. Reminds me of pre double glazing and central heating days when I got dressed under the covers!

    1. Sue: Ah. The 'good old days' of leaking hot water bottles and stepping out of bed on to a cold lino floor!


Thank you for visiting. Hope you enjoyed the pictures. Any comment, or correction to any information or identification I get wrong, is most welcome. John

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