She falls soft and wet like liquid streams and when she touches you, you shiver. She comes down at night, noon or dawn. She has no respect for time or social class, she’s distinguished by region, but everyone’s eventually her victim. You see her during the peak of the cheerful season, she watches you while you attempt to live up to your New Year’s Resolutions and she silently laughs. You once loved her but now her snow-flaked kisses have turned into ice and your blood boils no longer. So you hibernate, you stay inside as if your home is your harvest and you do not venture out. She has turned your bones into frozen stones, your eager ambition for out-door excursions have faded and you are now afraid of her.

Her name is frozen. We have slipped on her, fell on her and every year we gain ten pounds just to stay away from her. Your once anticipated pillar of seasonal change has turned into black ice, she will never compare to her three siblings. Summer, Spring and Fall.

Mother Nature’s Frozen Child

Written by Nicole Murray

Photography by OzImages