JACK FROST

About this time of year, some guy named Jack Frost starts coming around in the night and making designs on the windows.  Also he leaves frost all over the grass, so when I go out to potty, my feet and tushie get cold.  I don't like this frost stuff much, but I guess it's better than ice or snow.

Anyway, I started wondering who this Jack Frost person is and why he thinks he has the right to dump all his cold frost on us.  So I did some in-depth research on the subject, and I learned that Jack Frost is not really a person.  Instead, he is an elf or fairy, and he comes from English folklore.  He may be another version of Father Winter, or maybe even the son of Father Winter (who is also sometimes called "Old Man Winter").

Some people say that Jack Frost came from Germanic folklore, and others say he came from Viking folklore.  The Vikings had a character named Jokul Frosti, which means "icicle frost," so Jack Frost might be the English version of that.

In Russian tales, there was a Father Frost, and he was a blacksmith who made chains to keep water and earth bound together.  In Scotland, there was an old woman named Cailleach Bheur, which means Winter Hag, and she walked around the highlands with a holly staff and a crow on her shoulder.  And in German folklore, there was Frau Holle, who made snow fall by shaking white feathers out of her bed.

So as you can see, there are lots of characters that represent winter.  I don't know why humans do this thing where they make part of nature into a person or an elf or whatever, but they do.  This is another reason why I will probably never understand humans!

Anyway, here's a little joke you might like:
What did Jack Frost say to Frosty the Snowman?
Have an ice day!

Hahahaha!  Okay, maybe it's kind of dumb, but I thought it was funny.

And if you don't like jokes, then here is a poem:

Jack Frost
by C.E. Pike

Look out!  Look out!
Jack Frost is about!
He's after our fingers and toes;
And all through the night,
The gay little sprite
Is working where nobody knows.

He'll climb each tree,
So nimble is he,
His silvery powder he'll shake.
To Windows he'll creep
And while we're asleep
Such wonderful pictures he'll make.

Across the grass
He'll merrily pass,
And change all its greenness to white.
Then home he will go
And laugh ho, ho, ho!
What fun I have had in the night.