Fairy Castles

One of my earliest memories is of fairy ice castles under the banks of a creek near our house in upper Wisconsin.  The banks had been dug out by higher waters, leaving an overhang when the water receded.  When I was 5 or 6 years old, I walked along the frozen creek as it meandered through a pasture by our house, and I saw the most exquisite fairy castles made of spun ice, sandwiched under the overhang, delicate and crystaline, going on and on, around the corners, a whole fairy enclave.  It was magical, breathtaking, and mine alone (My sister swears she was with me, and saw it, too, but this is my story, and I don;t remember it that way).  I'm sure there is a boring metereological explanation of why the frost and icicles formed in that particular way that winter, but to me, at that age, it was pure magic, and it took my breath away.  I remember going back to the creek the next year, but there were no fairy castles, just dirty ice and snow.   Maybe I was just too old at that point, unable to believe anymore in the Snow Queen;s magic.   It was so beautiful, it still takes my breath away when I think of it. Maybe that is why the ice and snow sculptures in the winter resonate with me.  They speak of possibilities. . .and of magic!