Frost Flowers
Frost Flowers
On the same morning the begonias freeze, ironweed breaks in icy bloom. Brittle stalks spill white petals that splinter at a touch. Every year, I wait— for the mud to be muddy enough, for the cold to be cold enough, for the lifeless brown edges of fields to crack open and shatter me.




The Prompt
For frost flowers to form, the conditions must be right—lots of ooey gooey mud, followed by a swift, hard freeze. Everyone’s favorite weather, right? The moisture into the ground rises up into the brittle stalks of ironweed or other similar plants, expands upon freezing, and then cracks the stalk and spills out in wild curls of ice. The season’s first “crop” of frost flowers is always the most bountiful. Once the stems have been cracked by a frost flower and then melted by the sun, the harvest is done. As far as I can tell (I’m no scientist, though), the same plant doesn’t generally yield a second bloom if the weather cycles back to the same conditions later. That’s why I get weirdly excited about the first fall day in which a stretch of rain and mud is followed by a hard freeze. It’s frost flower day, and I know where to go looking for them.
I suspect we each days or moments like this that we look forward to—days or moments that cycle back over and over again but are spaced far enough apart to feel special. The first snow of season, the first pumpkin spice latte, the first tulip to press up from the ground, the next book by your favorite author, the next season of your favorite show, your yearly visit to someone or some place that you love.
What moments or days like these add color to your inner calendar? Have you lived any of them in recent weeks? Which ones are you currently looking forward to?
If you’d like a prompt to play with today, then I invite you to make a quick catalogue of moments like these. First time donning a sweater? First time slipping into shorts? First football game of the season? First—or last—Christmas song on the radio? What’s on your list?
As you notice the items landing on your list, do you pick up on themes? Do these things you delight in tend to cluster around social gatherings? Holidays? Do they center on experiences in nature or with the changing of seasons? Is there a culinary theme, perhaps? Pick an item or a few related items on your list, and take the time to imagine them in detail. Involve as many senses as you can in your imagining. Take your time. Let the richness of your imaginings and memories slowly distill into words. Write them down. Then keep writing. See what happens!
If you end up with a poem you’d like to share, I would be delighted to read it. I look forward to hearing from you in the comments thread. Thank you all for being here! A year ago, I hadn’t even imagined this community, and now I can’t imagine going without it.


I've never heard of frost flowers! Your poem and the pictures are stunning.
I loved learning the science behind the frost flowers. And the poem itself is gorgeous!
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Once I got started, I couldn't believe all the firsts and lasts that stand out to me over the course of a year (or nine months, to be precise).
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First bluebells, first bluebird
First spring beauty and sparrow choir
Last driveway snow, first warbler flash
then garlic shoot, shooting star
balsamroot, swallow swoop
arnica, harlequin, bear cub, lupine.
Last woodstove fire, first firewood cut
First grosbeak, bitterroot, garden greens
trickling flute, ravensquawk, fawnwobble
and very hot day. First smoke
brings strawberries. First backpack
brings snap peas. First haul of raspberries
means last song of Swainson’s.
First wasp sting, last wood-pewee
First tomato, last warble
First eggplant and pepper
Last backpack and vireo.
First frost, first mountain snow
First woodstove fire, last high hike
First yard skiff, last parsley
First snowshoe, last bear
First yard dump, first ski, last prism light,
first Christmas tree,
then that little breath-catch beyond
the galaxy of alphas and omegas,
where I sit quietly and
complete the circle.