It’s been a hard, long winter with temperatures falling below -30c or lower. Despite a fur lined parka my face still got frostbitten. The unsightly red blotches last several days. Edmonton winters are brutal. It’s incomprehensible that a few leaves of this little strawberry are still supple and alive. It’s true that a few plants stay green under the snow, but this little guy is completely exposed. I wonder what magic of chemistry keeps him going while I freeze in minutes.

A few weeks ago we were eating breakfast and saw the most magnificent sight: a coyote sauntered down the middle of the street. “Saunter” is not the exact word, he was floating on the snow. I have never seen such a noble stride. This amazing creature may account for the sudden disappearance of rabbits in our back yard. There are only a few tracks now, perhaps they belong to this lone, well camouflaged rabbit.

This morning we woke up to streets filled with puddles.  They reflect trees set against grey clouds with mirror like precision.  I have often thought that there is a good Buddhist analogy here: a dirty, inconspicuous puddle that calmly reflects the pristine sky

On the prairies we have five months of winter a few weeks of spring and then hot dry weather with occasional grey clouds of smoke from forest fires. Rain is an ephemeral and for me an endlessly exciting event. And it’s not just me, as I write this and gaze out the window, two girls in red and purple rubber boots jump into all the puddles as they walk down the street.

We got used to never knowing when we wake up if it’s still two or three in the morning. But today, instead of having to look at the clock, I looked out the window and saw beginnings of pink light on the horizon. Some things in life bring endless joy.

Just a small magnification and the world looks like an entirely different, unfamiliar place. If I turned this photo of snow drooping off lattice upside down and coloured it green it would be identical to fern fronds. That’s the mystery of mathematical fractals that permeate our world. Nature is conservative, instead of wasting good ideas it recycles them.

It’s another cold, dark February day. With noting but grey snow to photograph I took out my olloclip lens. Surprise, surprise. There are millions of  flowers in my garden. Only these white blooms are made of snowflake ice crystals.