Every so often in New England, everything is covered in ice. I’m not talking about lakes and rivers freezing or icicles dangling from the edge of roofs. I’m talking about when literally everything outside is covered in ice. Every branch, every leaf, every pine needle, every blade of grass is sheathed in its own covering of ice. 

It doesn’t happen often. Sometimes it’s once or twice a winter. Sometimes it’s once every couple of years. The conditions have to be just right. 

The other week, the conditions were just right. A near-freezing rain fell hard in the evening, and, when the temperature dropped just a bit after the sun went down, it turned into freezing rain. By morning, everything was ice, including a slick covering on the remaining snow.