View allAll Photos Tagged ColdWeather
It’s been too long since I went out with a camera. A rather better day, yesterday, encouraged a visit to the RHS site at Bridgewater.
A Red Twig Dogwood (cornus sericea) was of particular note with its striking red stems. This deciduous shrub is known for its bright and vibrant stem colours, which intensify after the leaves fall in autumn, making it a fantastic addition to landscapes for winter interest.
Winter dogwood shrubs can grow up to 6-9 feet tall and wide, forming a dense, bushy structure. They’re often used for hedging or as a focal point in winter gardens as here. They prefer moist, well-drained soil and can tolerate a variety of conditions, from full sun to partial shade. However, pruning it in early spring can help rejuvenate the plant and encourage the brightest stem colours.
Two Sundays ago, I decided to go out to photograph one of my favorite schoolhouses. It was a mistake, partly, because my truck got stranded temporarily due to windy coming from south, causing snowdrift over the county roads. I used the normal four-wheel drive, but I have to switch to the 'deep snow' mode, which helped me to get out. After I finally arrived to my destination, and immediately photograph the schoolhouse, with some different perspectives (you can see the other pic I posted a while ago). After I finished photographing the schoolhouse, I went back to the same route I came from, but nope the road, especially west and east routes, looked worse ... I mean, the snowdrift looked taller, so had to use my strategy on how to get myself out and decided to drive south toward the highway and made it home.
It was a very interesting day for me, LOL!
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Walking Harvey long before the dawn avoids the problem of pheasant shooting (and his fear of gunfire)... but there's no light for my photography addiction. Except moonlight!
Shot taken beside the River Rother at Woolbeding.
Found this little gray-capped rosy-finch perched up in a tree one day last winter. While I usually see them as a flock or a "bouquet" of finches, this one was all alone. Against the monochromatic winter sky, I thought it looked so pretty. They feed on seeds, insects, and vegetation by ground foraging. This is one of 3 different rosy-finches found in North America, including the brown-capped rosy-finch and the black roy-finch. Such a joy to find them when out in nature.
Happy Monday to all!
© Debbie Tubridy Photography
Drück mich/touch me
Original keine Art von Manipulationen • Original document any kind of manipulation
Raureif wächst gegen den Wind, da die luvseitig ankommende Luft einen höheren Feuchtigkeitsgrad als im Lee in sich trägt. Das Phänomen der Entstehung von Raureif tritt vergleichsweise selten auf.
In shadow on the ridge west of Mynydd Moel looking towards the mostly sunlit summit of Cadair Idris.
This photo is from a series of photos of “spiky hoarfrost” I took during a walk nearby. This event was the first ever "spiky" version I’ve seen here. All other times the hoarfrost was shorter and more rounded and the temperatures were about 10-20 degrees F colder. Both ways are exquisitely beautiful. I’m so grateful to have a macro lens that sees details I could never see! Fog had been present about six hours through the night and this frost was seen only on the north side of surfaces. It was just below freezing, so as the fog lifted and the temperature began to rise, these spikes softened to a version of slush.
Hamburg an einem Nebeligen Tag in der Großen Elbstraße. Hamburg on a foggy day in the Großer Elbstraße.
For Macro Mondays. This week’s theme: “Pick Two".
My Choice is "Speckled + Glass": frost crystals on the Cold Cellar Window.
Extreme cold warning for Southern Ontario Canada on Sunday as it was -25C and a wind chill values of -40 C.
HMM
♥ Thank you very much for your visits, faves, and kind comments ♥
En lo más crudo del invierno
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
(Christina Rosetti)
This photo was taken during a walk in a heavy snowstorm. The snowflakes drifting diagonally across the image show the force of the wind and lend a special dynamism to the scene at the crossroads. The contribution was made for the theme “Whispers of Nature” in the group “Our Daily Challenge.”
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Wegkreuz im Schneesturm
Dieses Foto wurde während eines Spaziergangs in einem heftigen Schneesturm aufgenommen. Die diagonal durchs Bild ziehenden Schneeflocken zeigen die Kraft des Windes und verleihen der Szene am Wegkreuz eine besondere Dynamik. Das Foto wurde für das Thema „Whispers of Nature” in der Gruppe „Our Daily Challenge” gemacht.
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WHISPERS OF NATURE is the topic for 3.- 9. January 2026, Group Our Daily Challenge
As the sun dips behind the bare trees, skaters move across the outdoor rink at Dieppe Park in East York. The low winter light reflects off the ice, catching skate marks as evening settles in.
More on the blog: www.agreatcapture.com/blog/2026/1/9/late-day-walk-in-east...
More from Jan 15th on the blog: www.agreatcapture.com/blog/2026/1/16/january-15th-walk-af...
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Backyard birdbaths in Autumn...fallen Garry oak leaf on ice.
Photography: Nikon D750, Tokina 100mm f2.8.
photo rights reserved by Ben
On 7 January 2026, the Netherlands lies beneath a thick blanket of snow. Even in the heart of the city, the white lingers far longer than usual. Along the Prinsengracht, near the Brouwersgracht, large, soft flakes drift steadily down. They settle on the quay, on bridge railings, and on the abandoned terrace chairs by the water. At the edge of the canal, the warm glow of Café ’t Papeneiland shines through the snowfall. One of Amsterdam’s oldest cafés, tucked into a 17th-century corner building, its windows glow gently against the winter white. Outside, the terrace stands silent and deserted, almost completely buried in snow. Inside, warmth awaits. Café ’t Papeneiland is a classic brown café, cherished for its homely atmosphere and unhurried calm. No music, no rush—just conversation, the soft clink of glasses, and the muted sounds of the city absorbed by the snow. At the tables, locals and passing visitors sit side by side. Here you drink coffee with apple pie, a beer from the tap, or something stronger, as if time itself has briefly paused. While many brown cafés have faded from the streets, Papeneiland endures—precisely because of its simplicity, because of the feeling that you’re allowed to linger. On this winter’s day, in the heart of the Jordaan, Amsterdam feels older, quieter, and softer than usual. The snow muffles everything—even time. A rare moment. And that is exactly what makes it so special.
A winter scene on the Prinsengracht in Amsterdam, near the Brouwersgracht. Heavy snowfall covers the canal edge, benches, and bridge railings, while the warm glow of Café ’t Papeneiland lights up the snowy Jordaan on 7 January 2026.
Op 7 januari 2026 ligt Nederland onder een dikke laag sneeuw. Midden in de stad blijft het wit uitzonderlijk lang liggen. Op de Prinsengracht, ter hoogte van de Brouwersgracht, dwarrelen grote, zachte vlokken onafgebroken omlaag. Ze blijven liggen op de kade, op de brugleuningen en op de verlaten terrasstoelen langs het water. Aan de rand van de gracht brandt het warme licht van Café ’t Papeneiland. Een van de oudste cafés van Amsterdam, verscholen in een 17e-eeuws hoekpand, met ramen die zacht oplichten tegen het winterwit. Buiten staat het terras er stil en verlaten bij, bijna volledig ondergesneeuwd. Binnen wacht warmte. Café ’t Papeneiland is een klassiek oud-bruin café, bekend om zijn huiselijke sfeer en ongedwongen rust. Geen muziek, geen haast — alleen gesprekken, het zachte schuiven van glazen en het gedempte geluid van de stad dat door de sneeuw wordt ingeslikt. Aan de tafels zitten buurtbewoners en toevallige passanten door elkaar. Hier drink je koffie met appeltaart, een biertje van de tap of iets sterkers, alsof de tijd even stil is blijven staan. Waar veel bruine cafés uit het straatbeeld verdwijnen, blijft Papeneiland standhouden. Juist door die eenvoud. Door het gevoel dat je hier even mag blijven hangen. Op deze winterse dag, midden in de Jordaan, voelt Amsterdam ouder, stiller en zachter dan normaal. De sneeuw dempt alles — zelfs de tijd. Een zeldzaam moment. En precies daarom zo bijzonder.
This photo is another one from a series of photos of “spiky hoarfrost” I took during a walk nearby. This event was the first ever "spiky" version I’ve seen here. All other times the hoarfrost was shorter and more rounded and the temperatures were about 10-20 degrees F colder. Both ways are exquisitely beautiful. I’m so grateful to have a lens that sees details I could never see! Fog had been present about six hours through the night and this frost descended on several plants. It was just below freezing, so as the fog lifted and the temperature began to rise, these spikes either dropped off the surfaces or softened to a version of slush.
After spending an hour in the cozy coffee shop, catching up with friends, you find yourself standing at a crosswalk as everyone leaves. The temperature has dropped significantly to 36°F since you left home and you realize that perhaps you should have dressed more warmly. Based on your body language and expression, you understand the mistake. #streetphotography
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A serene winter scene with city skyscrapers bathed in soft sunset light. Footprints trail across the snowy expanse, capturing moments of tranquility amidst urban life.
photo rights reserved by Ben
On 7 January 2026, the Netherlands lies beneath a thick blanket of snow. Code Orange is in effect, and its impact is felt everywhere. Yet this weather also brings something rare. Silence. Slowing down. A city that pauses to breathe. Normally, the centre of Amsterdam is always just a little warmer. Because of buildings, water and urban heat, snow here usually disappears quickly — wet, grey, gone. But not today. On the Herengracht, near the Roomolenstraat, snow falls without pause. Large, soft flakes settle on the quay, the steps and along the façades. As this stretch of the canal is largely free of parked cars, the snow has unusually ample space to accumulate. The path beside the water slowly turns into a quiet, white passage.
A single car moves cautiously through the winter scene, leaving tracks in the fresh snow. The old street lanterns are lit, casting a warm, almost golden glow that contrasts sharply with the winter white. Bicycles stand abandoned along the edge, half lost beneath a soft layer of snow. Behind windows, lights glow — small, warm and familiar — while outside, everything slows. Snow causes disruption, but it also changes the view. On this winter’s day, the white remains even here, in Mokum — something that rarely happens.
A quiet winter moment on the Herengracht near Roomolenstraat, where fresh snow briefly softened the heart of Amsterdam.
Op 7 januari 2026 ligt Nederland onder een dikke laag sneeuw. Code Oranje is van kracht en dat is overal merkbaar. Toch brengt dit weer ook iets zeldzaams. Stilte. Vertraging. Een stad die even ademhaalt. Normaal gesproken is het centrum van Amsterdam altijd nét iets warmer. Door bebouwing, water en stedelijke warmte verdwijnt sneeuw hier meestal snel — nat, grijs, opgelost. Maar vandaag niet. Op de Herengracht, ter hoogte van de Roomolenstraat, valt de sneeuw onafgebroken. Grote, zachte vlokken blijven liggen op de kade, de trappen en langs de gevels. Omdat dit deel van de gracht grotendeels vrij is van geparkeerde auto’s, krijgt de sneeuw hier opvallend veel ruimte om zich op te stapelen. Het pad langs het water verandert langzaam in een stille, witte doorgang. Een enkele auto beweegt zich voorzichtig door het winterdecor, sporen trekkend door het verse wit. De oude straatlantaarns branden en werpen een warm, bijna goudkleurig licht dat scherp afsteekt tegen het winterwit. Fietsen staan verlaten langs de kant, half verdwenen onder een zachte laag sneeuw. Achter ramen brandt licht — klein, warm en vertrouwd — terwijl buiten alles vertraagt. Sneeuw zorgt voor hinder, maar verandert tegelijk het beeld. Op deze winterse dag blijft het wit zelfs in Mokum liggen — iets wat hier zelden gebeurt.
A cold front moved through our area recently and brought a few, very few, sprinkles of snow. The next morning I found my remaining outdoor plants edged in frost. Morgan County, Alabama - 2020
photo rights reserved by Ben
On 7 January 2026, the Netherlands is covered by a thick blanket of snow. Code Orange is in effect, and its impact is felt everywhere: flights are cancelled, trains and buses are barely running—if at all—and the daily rhythm comes to an abrupt halt. Roads turn into white ribbons, calendars are wiped clean, and the country is forced to slow down. Yet this weather also brings something special. Silence. Slowness. A landscape that feels as if it has been briefly reset in time. Normally, the centre of Amsterdam is always just a few degrees warmer. Because of dense buildings, water, and urban heat, snow rarely lasts here. It usually turns wet, grey, and disappears quickly. But not today. Along the Brouwersgracht, snow falls steadily. The flakes drift down thick and soft, settling on the wide street, along the quay, and against the façades of the canal houses. The row of buildings forms a long, calm perspective—dark brick, light window frames, subtly dusted with snow. The street looks unusually empty. No cars, hardly any movement. Only footprints slowly fading beneath a fresh layer of white. An occasional cyclist walks their bike forward, while street lamps cast a warm glow onto the snow, softening the cold winter light. Behind the windows, small, quiet lights shine—signs of life within an otherwise hushed city. The openness of the Brouwersgracht deepens the sense of space and calm, as if Amsterdam is pausing to breathe. With traffic almost entirely absent, the snow is given time to remain. Sound is muffled, lines become simpler, and the pace slows naturally. People walk more slowly, look around, pause for a moment. There is disruption, without doubt—but also wonder. On this winter day, Amsterdam feels smaller, quieter, and almost timeless. And even here, along the Brouwersgracht, the snow remains: rare, fragile, and precisely for that reason, so special.
A beautiful winter moment along the Brouwersgracht, Amsterdam, where heavy snowfall transforms the normally busy street into a quiet, almost timeless scene. Soft snow blankets the canal houses and street, while warm streetlights and window glow add a sense of calm to the frozen city.
Op 7 januari 2026 ligt Nederland onder een dik pak sneeuw. Code Oranje is van kracht en dat is overal voelbaar: vluchten zijn geannuleerd, treinen en bussen rijden nauwelijks of helemaal niet, en het dagelijkse ritme valt abrupt stil. Wegen veranderen in witte linten, agenda’s worden leeg geveegd en het land schakelt ongewild een versnelling terug. Tegelijkertijd heeft dit weer ook iets bijzonders. Stilte. Vertraging. Een landschap dat even lijkt te zijn teruggezet in de tijd. Normaal gesproken is het centrum van Amsterdam altijd nét een paar graden warmer. Door bebouwing, water en stedelijke warmte blijft sneeuw hier zelden liggen. Meestal wordt het snel nat, grijs en verdwenen. Maar vandaag niet. Op de Brouwersgracht sneeuwt het onafgebroken. De vlokken vallen dicht en zacht en blijven liggen op de brede straat, langs de kade en tegen de gevels van de grachtenpanden. De rij huizen vormt een lang, rustig perspectief — donker baksteen, lichte kozijnen, subtiel bedekt met sneeuw. De straat oogt ongewoon leeg. Geen auto’s, nauwelijks beweging. Alleen voetstappen die langzaam verdwijnen onder een nieuwe laag wit. Een enkele fietser duwt zijn fiets voort, lantaarns werpen een warme gloed over de sneeuw en verzachten het winterlicht. Achter ramen brandt licht, klein en stil, als teken van leven in een verder verstilde stad. De openheid van de Brouwersgracht versterkt het gevoel van ruimte en rust — alsof Amsterdam even ademhaalt. Doordat het verkeer vrijwel ontbreekt, krijgt de sneeuw hier de kans om te blijven liggen. Geluid wordt gedempt, lijnen worden eenvoudiger, het tempo zakt vanzelf. Mensen lopen langzamer, kijken om zich heen, blijven even staan. Er is overlast, zonder twijfel — maar ook verwondering. Op deze winterdag voelt Amsterdam kleiner, stiller en bijna tijdloos. En zelfs hier, op de Brouwersgracht, blijft de sneeuw liggen: zeldzaam, kwetsbaar en precies daarom zo bijzonder.