Nature Photo Essay: First Frost

I awoke to one of the first frosts of the season. Even though it was still dark out, I could see the frost shining on the grasses in the meadow in the predawn light.

As the dawn began to grow in the east, clouds hovered above the coming sunrise in a way that indicated there might be sunrise colors, so I got ready. On with a light pullover coat, hat, gloves, boots, photo vest. Time to get out there and greet the morning.

Walking out in the back meadow to the nearby fence, it soon became apparent that there would only be a few sunrise colors; not the blaze of glory I'd been hoping for. But any day outside is a good day.

I crunched my way across the frosted meadow grasses and the fallen brown and yellow leaves. Stepping across the old barbed wire fence where it had long ago been pushed down by other people crossing (no livestock around these adjoining fields for many years), I walked out into the adjoining field, which was a smooth surface of harvested soybean stubble.

The still-hidden sun poured its intense energy up to glow off the bottom of the clouds. I made a few shots of the landscape and sky. I stood there wishing for other clouds to light up, but they didn't quite. Still, it was nice to be out in the crisp, clean air.

I re-crossed the fence, back into the hay meadow. I became intrigued with the patterns of the frost on the meadow. It wasn't a heavy enough frost to cover everything, but rather skipped spots here and there. Making some photos of brown leaves on the grass, I appreciated the late blooming pink blossoms of sweet clover, tinged with frost. They would soon be gone for the winter. For now, though, they are a remarkable splash of wildflower pinkness amid all the green grasses.

Then I noticed the imprint of a deer bed. It had laid there during the night, crushing the grasses with its body, and keeping them too warm for the frost to form there. Immediately my imagination came alive. What did the deer look like? Buck or doe? How long did it lay there? How full was its stomach at the time? Probably nice and full, and it had laid down contentedly to digest the night's browsing. Life is sweet for most wildlife in fall, at harvest time. Fattening up for the winter ahead.

I worked my way back down the meadow. Looking, looking, appreciating the frosty icing that skipped across the surface of the grasses. A sycamore leaf caught my attention. Kneeling in the frost to shoot low and close with camera mounted on tripod with widespread legs to get it down close to the ground, the rising sunlight illuminated parts of the leaf from the side. A bit of fire with the frost.

Then, kneeling there, my foolish wandering started to catch up with me. My hands were shaking...low blood sugar, no breakfast, too much coffee. Then I remembered there were a couple of granola bars in my vest. I fished them out eagerly: cinnamon brown sugar granola. Tearing open the wrappers, I wolfed them down greedily. Rarely did granola bars taste and feel so good. Talk about breakfast in the field.

Rejuvenated, I decided to explore behind the barn. An osage-orange tree (usually called a "hedge-apple" around here) held its bright yellow leaves enticingly against the clear blue sky and its bare neighbor trees.

I made a photo of one of its fallen leaves on the deep green grass before I noticed something I should have seen right away: a raccoon carcass. Right out there in the grass, behind the barn, not far from the brush and trees shading the creek. It had been dead a long time, its skeleton exposed amidst the fur. It looked like a young one, judging from the size of it. How had it died? What happened? It's pale white skull lay there upside down, the sunlight gleaming off its teeth.

After that, I was glad to get back to the vibrant green grasses and the leaves that had fallen atop them. As I looked back into the low sun, I was amazed to see millions of grass spider webs, single strands strung out all across the grasses, like a glowing network of crisscrossing utility lines. I had never seen so many single-strand webs like those. What kind of spiders had made them? I was used to seeing the funnel-like webs of grass spiders, not all those single strands.

Finally, I worked my way back east along the fence line. I noticed a lime green fruit of an osage-orange tree on the ground, with its brain like pattern and citrus smell. Round, heavy, about the size of a softball. Somehow it seemed like a good time to end to my little excursion. So, two hours and three rolls of film later, I walked back to the house. To a cold half cup of remaining coffee, and to make the perfect omelette for breakfast.

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