There is a dirt path along part of my dog walking route. It goes along a forested incline down into the lower part of the cemetery. It is where I get to see the first of the spring flowers, learned how to identify poison ivy (after having contact with it from pulling out garlic mustard), get to aggressively pull garlic mustard, and where I first noticed the little ice towers.

When it has rained and then frozen again (usually over night), the loose dirt around the path sprout a little metropolis of tiny, dirty, ice towers. Sometimes they are very tiny and just make the dirt look kind of fluffy. Other times they breech the surface by one or two centimetres and a wee magical world erupts. Of course I never seem to have my camera when these impromptu magical moments occure. They dissolve as soon as the the day warms or the sun touches them.
A glimmer of fantastical beauty.