Thanks to Bikurgirl for hosting One- Hundred – Word Wednesday.
The frost on the grass is a warning; it heralds winter’s time. It’s sunny and bright walking outside in the late morning, yet I can feel the bitter chill of the snow storm approaching, numbing my skin
There’s a distinct bitterness in the air and it tastes like freshly fallen snow that doesn’t melt, but freezes your tongue. It’s a nip of coldness which makes you shiver long after you’re snuggled by the warmth of the fire indoors.
I know by night, the great pines and paved trail will be frozen and covered in cotton mounds. The frost will becomes a blanket of white remaining until spring seeps into the frozen north.