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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 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.
wish everyone a sunny weekend !!
Oh, don't it hurt deep inside
To see someone do something to her
Oh, don't it pain
to see someone cry
Oh, especially when someone is her
Silence is golden, but my eyes still see
Silence is golden, golden
But my eyes still see........
The garden in winter with frost in the shadows at Dyrham House in Gloucestershire UK.
A National Trust property.
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.
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.
A snow-covered laneway west of Yonge Street, south of Woodlawn Avenue, in Midtown Toronto. Packed snow narrows the passage between brick buildings after a winter storm.
More on the blog: www.agreatcapture.com/blog/2026/1/16/january-15th-walk-af...
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Midtown Toronto on January 15th, 2026
More snow is coming tomorrow
More on the blog: www.agreatcapture.com/blog/2026/1/16/january-15th-walk-af...
I don't usually entertain taking bird photos - only because I don't have the long lenses often required to capture photos of birds. Lucky for me then that as I was out taking photos of the snow, this robin came to have a look at what I was doing - and stayed still long enough for me to get a few photos.
As the arctic air freezes through Ontario, you can find the waterfowl hunkered down in somewhat more sheltered and slightly warmer spots. If you look, you will see a haze in the photo, which is the river water evaporating. When the warmer vapour meets the colder air, the vapour condenses into ice crystals. biologyinsights.com/why-do-lakes-steam-in-cold- weather/#google_vignette Environment Canada predicts this for tomorrow for my area: Bitterly cold conditions continue into Sunday morning:
"Wind chill values near minus 30 to minus 33.
Brisk winds gusting up to 50 km/h.
Continuing into Saturday morning.
Extreme cold puts everyone at risk."
The small bird, a flash of orange against the somber greens and browns of the dormant wood, waits. Your lens has captured a moment of still vigilance. The Robin is plumped against the cold, its bright breast a deceptive sign of warmth in the chill air. It perches on a lichen-draped branch—a fragile stronghold in a season that demands constant resilience.
For this tiny creature, winter is an unforgiving marathon. The days are short, and the nights are long, dark envelopes of intense cold that demand every calorie stored throughout the day. The very act of survival is a full-time job. The forest floor, once teeming with easily accessible worms and insects, is now cold and often frozen, turning the simple need for food into a fierce, desperate hunt.
Le petit oiseau, une tache orange sur le fond vert et brun sombre du bois endormi, attend. Votre objectif a capturé un instant de vigilance immobile. Le rouge-gorge est bien dodu pour se protéger du froid, sa poitrine éclatante offrant une illusion de chaleur dans l'air glacial. Il se perche sur une branche drapée de lichen – un refuge fragile en cette saison qui exige une résilience constante.
Pour cette minuscule créature, l'hiver est un marathon impitoyable. Les jours sont courts et les nuits longues, de sombres enveloppes de froid intense qui puisent dans ses réserves chaque calorie accumulée durant la journée. La survie est un travail à plein temps. Le sol forestier, jadis grouillant de vers et d'insectes facilement accessibles, est désormais froid et souvent gelé, transformant le simple besoin de se nourrir en une chasse acharnée et désespérée.
С Новым годом! Пусть новый год принесет вам здоровья, радости и удачи во всех делах.
Wishing everyone a happy, peaceful, and prosperous New Year.
Icicles
#roberteede #icicles #photooftheday #photo #photography #blue #bluewinter #winter #moody #mood #icy #ice #cold #coldweather #jessopsmoment
A biting –19°C winter day in Hjerdalen, where the sun pushes through frost‑laden birch trees and turns the deep cold into something strangely warm. Soft shadows stretch across untouched snow, and every branch glows like it’s holding its own quiet ember. A perfect moment from the slopes above Sollia, captured in the golden calm of a Telemark winter.
Fun fact: In very cold and dry air—typically below –15°C—sunlight often creates stronger golden hues because tiny ice crystals scatter and reflect light more efficiently, giving winter scenes a surprisingly warm color palette.
A green-winged teal lifts from the winter marsh, its wings briefly mirrored in the still water below. For a moment, sky and reflection become one — motion suspended between what is and what is remembered.
A solitary red boathouse stands above the winter‑quiet waters of Nesbukta, its stilts rooted in the shoreline as the Oslofjord stretches softly into the haze. The muted palette of sea and sky makes the red panels glow even stronger, a beacon of human presence in a landscape otherwise hushed by cold and tide. Captured from Nesbru in Asker, the scene blends Nordic stillness with the familiar rhythm of the coast — where snow, wood, and water meet in a moment of gentle equilibrium.
Fun fact: Traditional Norwegian sjøboder were often built on stilts above the water to allow small boats to be pulled directly inside during storms — a practical design that has shaped coastal architecture for centuries.
Night photography of a heavy linked-steel chain, and its hanging icicles reflecting the soulless green lighting of this forgotten frozen space I have mistakenly encroached on.
Have a wonderful evening..
I have visited this church for the third time, with my first two visits occurring during warm weather. Since the leaves have not yet grown, I decided to stop by and take some photos. The church is located in Clay County, Nebraska.
At the end of its slackened leash of thick steel links, the icicles grin, baring teeth of menacing frozen spikes.
A night time photograph of icicles from the recent ice storm we had here in Eugene, Oregon USA.
Thank you for your visits. Have a great day!
Close-up of a black beetle perched on frost-covered grass in a natural outdoor setting during winter.
Snowflakes dance quietly from the sky and settle like a soft veil over the landscape. Everything is quiet, almost magical—as if the world has stopped breathing for a moment.
In the middle of winter, she stands wrapped up warm in the snow, holding her cuddly bear tightly in her arms.
A gift from her dear friend Raija.
Not a real animal, not a little creature with a heartbeat – but a stuffed animal that invites you to cuddle.
The snow continues to fall, the wooden house in the background looks like something out of a winter fairy tale, and at this moment, only one thing matters: this little piece of warmth in her arms.
Sometimes you don't need a fireplace.
Just a cuddly bear and inner peace.