Fire and Ice

As I sit and write, the teachers in the science department are jamming out, banging their heads to Pink Floyd’s “Brick in the Wall.” Besides the obvious irony — my coworkers practically screamed ‘Teacher, leave those kids alone!’ — those students that have dropped by wrinkle their noses as if they caught us cooking chocolate-covered crickets.

Winter proves a difficult time for school.  Too little snow yields a figurative eternity between Christmas and Spring Break, while too much and you may as well cancel your summer holidays.  All in all, I’d to stay indoors by the fire with a good book and a pot of tea, a schedule broken only by my writing, gaming, napping, and jogging to the bathroom — all that tea, you know.

Despite all the snowstorms crashing into the Northeast yesterday, Maryland only suffered an ice storm and a single snow day.   The county having already spent their snow days was loathe to waste any more, but with frozen limbs fallen across roadways and major power outages, they finally conceded this round to Mother Nature.  I of course was overjoyed — as any young teacher in my position — and promptly fell back asleep.

Several hours later, having woken up, Bree and I took a sojourn into the woods to photograph the frozen tundra that was our backyard.  Kevin, whose engineering class was scheduled for 11am, borrowed my car and promptly drove it into a tree.  Thankfully, only my car was damaged.  Unfortunately, my car was damaged.

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Our willow bent double under the weight of icicles, forming an arched tunnel of death. Driving beneath the branches later that day, I imagined frozen teeth dropping from the sky and piercing the hood like the maw of a T-Rex (or at the least severely denting my parent’s car).

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Ice crystals encasing evergreens . . . Oh, how I wish you jingled like glass chimes or that tree in Frozen.

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Dasad stocks his Flickr account with photos of the world (cupcakes, wedding cakes, various other kinds of pastries, etc . . .), shot close to savor all the tiny details. I’m trying my hand at it now with ice-crusted branches. Behold, the deadly power of Nature!

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Ok, the last caption ended with less of a dramatic flair and more of a dramatic napalm. Can you blame me? I’m currently grading papers, wondering why half the class decided not to turn in their homework on Edger Allan Poe. Snow days prove more dangerous to the poet than Baltimore pubs.

Fire and Ice

One of the difficulties associated with photographing ice is the lack of color. Ducktales once featured a wonderful episode where Scrooge visited an arctic kingdom of penguins, where colored crayons and scarves were regarded as great treasures. Interesting concept. Thus, I tried to throw some reds and blues into this picture. It shows how we underestimate the little things around us. Dad asked us to take down the wreaths a month ago, so it also illustrates the stubborn laziness of the the Murphey boys.

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