Sword Of Ice-ocles

I'm sure this isn't dangerous... nah, what's the worst that can happen?

Winter has moved from the "Cold But Dry" phase into that messy, slushy, indecisive stage when temperatures hover over, under and at the freezing point. While this hints at the prospect of Spring, it also brings certain issues to the forefront such as a plague of potholes on the roads, and a ripe crop of icicles on the roofs… or is it "rooves". Neither of those sound right, but whatever.

So, I stepped outside one day last week, wondering what Finicky February had in store today, when I felt a drop of water hit my shoulder. Then another, this time on top of my head.

This seemed odd as the sky was partly cloudy, the paved walkways were dry, and no precip had been forecasted. I looked up, as if to question the sky, and quickly backed away!

Hanging directly above me – well, before the aforementioned backtrack – was a tapered spear of milky-white ice.

The dad-burned thing had to be a yard long if it was a foot (sorry, I don't speak Folksy well). As I gazed skyward in wonder, a fat droplet fell from the business end of the icicle and plopped onto the pavement.

"That could have been my head", I thought. It's like Mother Nature's version of the red dot from a laser-guided rifle: the droplet paints the target; the frozen spear falls upon it.

Having no desire to be found sometime later with a hole in my head and no cause or weapon to be found (it's true, ice makes the perfect murder weapon and don't quote me on that), I backtracked further, snapped this photo, and continued on my merry way… with one eye on the sky.

(Copyright © 2025-2026 Aristocratic)