Carina & Snowdrop
Snowdrop
Hey Carina, I was staring at the frost on the park bench and it almost looked like Orion in winter. Do you ever see star shapes in the ice patterns?
Carina
I love when the frost whispers Orion’s pattern to me, like the sky has come down to rest on the bench.
Snowdrop
That’s exactly how I feel when the frost turns the bench into a sky map. I try to trace every tiny constellation before it melts away. Do you have a favorite star?
Carina
I’m a bit enchanted by Vega, the bright little star that sits in the summer triangle. It feels like a gentle guide through the night.
Snowdrop
Vega is a nice choice, bright and steady—almost like a lighthouse for wanderers. I’ve noticed its light in the frost on winter mornings, a tiny beacon on the snow‑white world. How do you usually keep track of your favorite stars?
Carina
I keep a little notebook with drawings and the names, and sometimes I just press my fingertips to the cold glass and let the image stay in my mind for a moment before it melts. It feels like the stars are sharing a secret, so I try to remember the night’s feel with a soft sketch or a memory of the scent of pine that follows each sighting.
Snowdrop
That sounds almost like a ritual—holding the glass in your palm, letting the cold lock the memory in your skin. I’ve tried the same thing with a frosted stream and the pattern sticks to my mind long after the ice melts. The pine scent really does tie the whole experience together, doesn’t it? Do you ever feel like your notes could outshine the actual stars?