Yosemite Morning Frost

Early morning frost in Yosemite Valley.

This past Sunday, as I exited my car in Yosemite Valley, I felt the cold chill of winter in the air.

As I glanced around and saw a white, crystalline twinkle on the grasses, tree logs, and fence posts, I realized that the night before had reached below freezing temperatures. (Later, safe and warm in the cabin I was renting, I did a little searching and found out it had dropped to the mid-20s F). I knew better than to think that it was a dusting of snow–but I hoped it was anyways!–and found that some of the shadier parts of Yosemite had frosted during the night.

It was transformed.

This was the second day in a row that I was in the park to hike and take pictures. The day before, I saw snow on the distant mountain peaks behind Half Dome. I knew that the daily lows neared freezing temperatures on a nightly basis. I obsessively watched the weather forecasts switch from rain to snow and back again in the days that led up to my trip. I knew that the weather would be unpredictable and I packed for all weather types.

And yet, in spite of all of that knowledge, I was caught off guard by the beauty and stillness of a partial frost. Sunday, in the mid-morning when this photo was taken, was cold. It was busier than the day before had been, although not as packed as during my previous visit to Yosemite.

And yet, there was a tranquility in the air, a tranquility accompanied by cold air, warm flannel and beanies, steaming breath, and the mountains. I suddenly felt more in tune with men the likes of John Muir and Ansel Adams. I saw the harsh and unpredictable beauty (a different kind of harsh beauty than the granite rock faces) of Yosemite, and once again felt the call of the mountains tug at my soul.

In both of my visits to Yosemite, I have felt so infinitesimally tiny. The granite faces of El Capitan and Half Dome, the winding Merced River, and the huge trees have all reminded me of my size–so small–in the grand scheme of things. So humble in the face of Nature that endures the goings on of such tiny, fleeting humans.

And yet…

With the frost and the accompanying cold transforming parts of Yosemite, I too was transformed. In all the climates and places of Nature, never have I felt so at home, so at peace, so like I belonged to something bigger than myself. In some ways, I’ve had to be reminded of how small and seemingly insignificant I am and of how unpredictable and beautiful life is (so easy to forget during the 9-5 work week), so that I could again feel like I was a part of something larger.

I hope you enjoy the post! There will be more pictures of Yosemite to come!

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3 thoughts on “Yosemite Morning Frost

  1. Pingback: Transformation: Autumn – What's (in) the picture?

  2. Pingback: More Yosemite Frost | A Life of Wanderlust and Contemplation

  3. Pingback: WPC: Transformation | Lillie-Put

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