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| Early-morning, ice forming on the Cottage Pool. (Double-click to enlarge.) |
A single degree…no more. A change so subtile you'd scarce feel it against your most sensitive skin. And yet, within this small movement lies a reordering so profound it can rightly be called magic.
Lower the temperature by just one degree and water is transformed into ice. The most common of elements becomes reshaped. Liquid turns into crystal. That which only a moment before was fluid, flowing, pellucid, yielding to the touch, has suddenly metamorphosed into something now solid, inanimate, with weight and form, hard as a stone.
An astonishing alteration. A transmogrification of such magnitude it could be a miracle. Amazing, the power of one measly degree. Breathtaking the mystery contained therein. And wondrous the beauty when the day is new and the morning light has just found its way into the pool, carrying hints of sky and sunrise, sparkling, gleaming…revealing. Water becoming ice. Thanks to a single degree of magic.
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24 comments:
Our world is full of magic. Thanks for the reminder to see it.
Hi Griz-
magic-miracle on deed. The picture is breath-taking - surreal, and your words of awe and wonder and joy make the magic of one degree a moment to celebrate as gift from nature, God, and all things wondrous.
Love to you
Gail
peace.....
Michael Asbell…
It is, indeed, a wondrous world. And the magic is right there, at our doorstep, waiting to amaze those who look close and consider.
Gail…
The miracle and magic of the everyday—which we too often look at without really seeing, or fail to appreciate its wonder because it's so commonplace.
Hope you're feeling good and enjoying things. Be good.
It is breathtaking in it's beauty---it is absolutely magical!
Grizz: A tiny bone to pick: water's a compound, not an element, but perhaps you're speaking in metaphorical terms. (This is what you get when you invite a scientist to read your musings.) The image is wonderful, BTW.
In your photograph Grizz you seem to have caught the water exactly on that moment of change - as you say - magical.
Yes, that's magic. And a magical photo too!
Angie…
Sometimes a photo captures the essence of a thought far better than words. Thank you.
Scott…
Au contraire, my friend. Your contemporary scientific education betrays you. Long before Antoine-Laurent de Lavoisier's "Elementary Treatise of Chemistry" came along, in 1789—regarded as the first modern chemical textbook, and the beginnings of our modern list of elements—there were any number of ancient classical element systems in place worldwide, Greek, Babylonian, Chinese, Tibetan, etc. These elements were inspired by natural observation, and often played a part in a culture's belief system. Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water is the series most widely known, though some lists contain such things as sky, wood, metal, and so on. But most lists were short, a half-dozen or so elements. Medieval Alchemy was based on an elements list of Air, Water, Fire, Earth, and Aether (a substance formerly believed to permeate any space between any particles). Every classical elements list I know contains water as one of its elements.
So while you are entirely correct in that water is, by current scientific jargon, a compound—unique, I believe, in that appears naturally in all three common states of matter, liquid, solid, and gaseous (and can also exists in a liquid crystal state near hydrophilic surfaces)—I am going to claim literary victory by retreating to the earlier meaning of the historical—a stance I can defend by also pointing out my mention of magic within the text. Magic, as you know, has no place in the purity of modern scientific definition…while we writer types feel free to bandy it about at will.
However, I'm willing to call it a tie and say we're both correct. (BTW, I knew when I wrote the post this morning someone might question me on referring to water as an element—and I also knew I had a classical usage defense.) But while it has been fun responding, we wandering Buckeyes gotta stick together.
I love how you write.... and what you 'see'. Thank you.
Weaver…
I think I did, or at least as close as I could manage. Some of the pool is solid, some still liquid, and a portion slushy. But for me, the morning colors are what really makes the image. Thank you.
Solitary…
Just plain old everyday natural magic…and yet so extraordinary. Thank you re. photo. It was really just a lucky shot—I had no idea it would turn out so well.
Robin…
Thank you. With each passing year, I learn to "see" better…of course the down side is that I then realize how much I've missed in the past. And I have no doubt I'm still missing far more than I'm seeing.
good!
AfromTO…
Thank you.
A lovely photo, Grizz! Yes, the world can change before our eyes with only minor shifts. How wonderful it is that the landscape is constantly reconstructing itself. It seems to understand that most good things require both order and variety, order to convey a sense of unity and variety to prevent us from being bored by too much order.
George…
Very well said, my friend. Order and variety are two of nature's important tools to shape landscapes, seasons, and the creatures that inhabit them. It is one of the unsung blessings, really, this duality—an ever-changing mix of the familiar and the new, the expected and the unexpected. For me, it assures the days will afford both comfort and adventure.
Ice is indeed magical - your photograph is beautiful. It's rare to catch the water just as it's tipping over the edge of being fluid into being something solid.
Rowan…
Yes, the changeover is subtle. Mostly by luck, this photo did come out rather better than I expected in that respect. Sometimes, when the temperature has dropped to well below zero and the whole river is about to freeze over from bank-to-bank, I'll see even the fast water lanes and pour-overs filled with slush—and if the light is right, looking for all the world like a giant frozen margarita.
My comment is directed to your use of "transmogrification".
I first encountered the word in the poem "Janet Waking." I usually think of transmogrify meaning "to change to the grotesque," which is how it is used in that poem.
But, I looked it up again, and the definition does reference "grotesque," but also gives a definition of "transform." So you are off the hook--not that you were ever on, mind.
Great photo.
KGMom...
Actually, I wasn't sure myself when I wrote it, so I looked it up in a couple of dictionaries I have on my desk, then, just to be really certain, pulled down the proper volume of the OED from the top shelf of my reference bookcase and looked there. About half the time when I question my own usage I find I have indeed misused the word--maybe by only a shade or two in meaning, but more than I'm willing to let slide. The amazing thing is how many words I learned over the years that I'd heretofore been using incorrectly. Not many people care about such things any more, including a lot of editors who don't know the difference between imply and infer, or further and farther, but I care. There are days when my perfectionism and old school attitude drive me nuts, though.
magic is all around us if we care to see it; thanks for showing us this miraculous moment. Your photos are a source of magic in themselves!
Val…
You're right, nature is truly an endless source of wonder and magic. And sometimes, just every once in a while when least expected, the camera catches a fleeting moment of that magic, not by skill, but really by luck—though I do thank you for giving me the undeserved credit.
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