In the morning, the grass was frozen into stiff spikes of frost that crunched underfoot. The sky was a clear, pale blue and sunlight reached for the ground. The air held an unfeeling sharpness and fuzzy crystals of frost caught sunlight and clung to the world.
The ground was solid, unmoving as a great hunk of stale, old bread. Up on the hill, the frost was leaving in patches, revealing grass, mashed down onto the soil by the foot of a passerby. Metal latches and gates were icy to the touch and water troughs had obtained an unforgiving crust.
Imagine the relief when this cold, hard landscape melted, the chilliness left and the sun really shone. Save the leafless trees, it became a fine summer day and a crisp fall afternoon bunched together, all in one. It was a transformation from the morning frost. Things can change in such little time.