On 29th December, after several grey days and relatively mild weather, the temperature dropped, though the fog remained. It lifted about midday and the sun shone out on a world transformed by hoarfrost. I grabbed my camera and took a short walk on our local 'mountain', Ramberg. Every innocent straw of grass or birch twig sported a new coat of ice crystal prickles, and the oak leaves still clinging to their branches were turned into cactuses by the frost. On the ground, the crystals had not built thorns but frosted the leaf litter and made each leaf and fern frond stand out distinctly, saying: "Here I am. Take my picture!" So I did.
The skys were clear overhead, but clouded still over the city to the south. An atmospheric haze hung threateningly over Masthugget, but the industrial landscape west towards the sea and the harbour was softened and brightened by the frost, touched by magic.
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