The devil isn’t the only thing in the details; in fact, I’d argue that everything dwells there.
One of the things I love about frost season is the way a morning coat of crystal transforms even the most mundane things into jewel-bedecked lovelies. Rain dampens and darkens the things it falls upon, and snow covers them. But only frost outlines the objects it touches, etching them with a fine white border that makes even an ordinary shrub look lacy.
A hard overnight frost makes litter look like fine crystal, a fallen leaf look like a jeweled ornament, and a castoff sofa look like a venerable antique. Finely divided leaves look particularly detailed when frosted, and furry mullein leaves look even furrier. Frost, in other words, doesn’t add anything alien to the objects it covers; instead, it highlights an object’s essential outline.
Yesterday morning, I tweeted the sight of the diamond-glittering fallen leaves that sparkled in my flashlight beam when I took Reggie on a predawn walk. The night before, those leaves were simply litter, but with a touch of Jack Frost’s magic brush, they gleamed like gems underfoot. A layer of frost worked wonders simply by encouraging me to look again, and deeply, at the details of something I had previously trod upon.