Frozen

It was very noisy outside last night. I couldn't have slept even if I had gone to bed before four. It sounded like the wind was blowing everything not stuck in the ground across the yard and back. Rattling, scraping, banging, thumping all night long. I looked out the window this morning to check the damage and discovered it wasn't the wind blowing things about making that racket last night, it was falling ice. We had an ice storm. It's still– I'm not sure what to call it. Icing? Not as heavily, but I hear the wet, clicking rattle of the falling ice. I've never been in a proper ice storm. This isn't a very big one. I can tell because there are no trees lying in the road and no branches in our yard. The snow from earlier this week is entirely gone, but now everything is covered in a layer of ice. Branches are encased and shimmering starkly. Everything looks fragile. The flags are covered with ice, too. If I'd known there was going to be an ice storm, I would have brought the flags in, but now I don't want to do anything to them for fear of breaking them in pieces. They're not shifting in the wind, but I can tell they're moving because of the cracking sound they make. The flag pole lines are coated in ice and sticking out at sharp angles, looking as though a good tug of breeze could snap them. Everything is brittle. It reminds me of the White Witch from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. A cold, slightly forbidden, frozen world.