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In January or February come the great ice-storms, when every branch, blade, and trunk is coated with frozen rain, so that you can touch nothing truly. The spikes of the pines are sunk into pear-shaped crystals, and each fence-post is miraculously hilted with diamonds. If you bend a twig, the icing cracks like varnish, and a half-inch branch snaps off at the lightest tap. If wind and sun open the day together, the eye cannot look steadily at the splendour of this jewelry.


This is from “Leaves from a Winter Notebook” in Letters of Travel, 1892-1913

It describes Kipling’s experience of Winter in Vermont. where he settled for four years after his marriage in 1892.