For One Brief Shining Moment . . .

"Don't let it be forgot, that there was once a spot, for one brief shining moment that was known as . . . ." Well, not exactly Camelot, but mighty close to it: a perfect winter's day at Moreau Lake State Park.  At least, so far this winter. If the forecasts come true, this gorgeous blue-sky sparkly-snow scene will soon be melted and rained on.  But along with my friends Dana, Sue, and Tom, we made sure to make the most of it yesterday by immersing ourselves in as many of its glories as we could.

Here we are, setting off under a radiant sky and snow-laden towering trees to reach a favorite destination, where a mountain stream we know as Zen Brook flows beneath a bridge along the Red Oak Ridge Trail.

Due to recent rains, water still danced and splashed among snow-covered rocks.  We are still waiting for sub-freezing cold to transform that splashing water into fabulous crystal creations, but the sparkling mounds of soft fluffy snow were lovely enough in their own way.

Our friend Sue is the one who once thought to call this tumbling mountain stream Zen Brook, for it doesn't take many moments of hearing its music before tranquillity overcomes any stress we might be harboring.

As we continued along the Red Oak Ridge Trail, we noticed several young trees that had bent to form graceful arches: perfect frames to showcase us jolly companions. Left to right, here are Dana Stimpson, Tom Callaghan, and Sue Pierce, among the best co-nature explorers I could ever hope for.

And, oh, what a gorgeous day we had to explore such wintry beauty! Here, mounds of fluffy stuff caught in the twigs were rendered translucent by rays of golden sunlight.

This gracefully curvaceous snake of snow appeared to be winding its way among snow-capped baby beech leaves.

This lichenous limb appeared to be trimmed with ermine fur!

The snow was so clean and white and fresh, still cold enough this morning that the flakes still kept their spiky shapes intact.  It was also refreshing to taste, and I picked up dollops of it on my finger to place on my tongue.

There was little wind on this sun-drenched morning, but every so often an overhead branch would shed showers of glittering snow, filling the air with sequin-sparkle and prickling our faces with icy kisses of cold.

Sue must have enjoyed that sensation so much, she found some snow-laden hemlock boughs to create a personal snow-shower beneath!

We continued our explorations until we reached the lake's back bay.  Here, we pondered why this large section of the lake always froze over completely before any ice at all had formed along the shore of the lake's main body. Today, the ice cover was dotted with these mysterious dark "spiders," probably formed by water welling up through weak spots in the opaque ice, spreading out in rays, and then transparently refreezing.  I wonder if this phenomenon has ever been recorded in time-lapse photography.

I enjoyed one last look at the lake, which lay wide open and calm enough to reflect the blue sky.  A beautiful and yet troubling scene.  We are well into January now, when skaters and fishermen ought to be traversing a frozen lake. This "one brief shining moment" of cold and snow we had yesterday had better not be the last we will have all winter.