I captured this one years ago, around the time that I started regularly wielding a single lens reflex and behaving like a wide-eyed eight year old kid in a frog-filled marsh. Nothing was (is!) pedestrian to me. I was enthralled with the abundance of little discoveries to capture on, at that time, film. Never mind functioning before the digital groove - I never limited myself when I was out with my camera, and shot whatever I knew I would enjoy viewing later!
It is always frigid at the beach in the winter, but on those rare days when the wind is sedated, you can sufficiently insulate yourself in a portable shelter of parkas and wool, enabling you to spend some quality time with the invigorating chilled air.
Having performed the above-mentioned layering ritual, I was enjoying the afternoon shooting ice glazed beach rocks, charismatic vanilla frosted wooden fences, and sugar-coated tree branches stretching out into the cerulean sky.
I didn't spy the critter that left behind this flurried evidence, nor did I attempt to coerce it into view; I simply kneeled down and took this picture. My favourite aspect of this image is not the tracks, however, it is the sparkle of the individual snow crystals, perched ever so delicately atop the more mature snow that had now fused into ground cover. It reminds me of quiet winter evenings growing up at home in Labrador, listening to the falling snowflakes, and reveling in the pure, glistening environment that instilled in me my love of all things winter.
© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved
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