Ice Ball

It was a cold morning.  Somehow, something, somewhere called to me.  I put on my camo and got my shooter and headed outside to see what was going down.  The sun was still behind the horizon shooting cold rays against the cloudy and threatening sky.  My first steps resounded like cannon fire as I punched through ice covered snow sinking to my ankles in the white stuff and marking the perfection of the yard with scars.  I was an uninvited giant to this reception.  The make-up crew had already come and gone.

The red-head had been gel-packed with all her curls.  Someone sprinkled glitter on her head just for the joy of it.

The Nandina had held his green color this long winter and decided to wear a slick alligator zoot suit over it to the reception.  He look a little over the top with all the gilding.

There was lots of bling in the way of swing in the way that diamond-like necklaces add their sparkle, and almost everyone wore some jewelry to dance in the winter wind.

Even last year's rose hips leaned in to the beat of the Winter Ball tossing a ponytail ice mop around to show they were not too small or tender to go unnoticed or too brittle to get down to the beat.

One last ball before winter moves on to the south of the planet.  He does not always throw around such gems and glitter in his celebrations, but this time we sort of needed that.