As it happens most years during the first deep freeze of winter, Frostweed, Verbesina virginica, has graced my winter garden with its swirls of ice sculptures.

Along with the most common name of ‘Frostweed’ which pays descriptive homage to this winter phenomena, ‘Iceplant’ and ‘Iceweed’ are also names for V. virginica.

Twirls-n-curls of ice ribbons form, usually at the base of the plant, when the temperature drops significantly below freezing.

As the freeze deepens, water in the stems is released, freezing in beautiful formations along the stems, undulating around the base of the plant and often traveling upwards along the stem.
In this photo, at the top left, notice burst open stems. Ice crystals have filled the gaps.

The ice sculptures themselves have many names: ice ribbons, ice flowers, ice fringes, ice fingers, ice filaments, ice leaves, frost flowers, frost ribbons, frost freaks, frost beards, frost castles (Forrest M. Mims III), crystallofolia (coined by Bob Harms at The University of Texas), rabbit ice and rabbit butter. I think ice flowers and frost flowers are the most poetic of the names, and frost freaks and frost castles the quirkiest. I typically refer to them as ice ribbons.

Frostweed is particularly well known for extravagant ice ribbons, but many plants produce similar ice crystals during the first freeze. In my own garden I’ve seen various salvias, lantanas, and other asters form ice ribbons around their frozen stems, but none challenge the beauty, complexity, or size of those created by Frostweed.
All of these ice ribbons are from Frostweed plants and their appearance in the garden is as brief as they are beautiful. Once the freezing conditions are finished and the temperature rises, the delicate crystals melt. The ice ribbons will not form again until next winter’s first, hard freeze. Ice ribbons are once, and done, and ephemeral.


I pruned back this Frostweed in November, planning to remove it from the edge of my garden. I left just a bit of stem and root, mostly out of forgetfulness or laziness or some combination of both. I’m glad that I didn’t yet remove what’s left of the plant.

What a lovely gift on this frigid day.
As I walked through the garden, bundled, but cold, a Northern Mockingbird chirped. It allowed let me get close to where it perch, fluffed feathers and all, in the Red Bud tree. We shared a moment in the quiet cold.















