Frosting on the Cake

Every once in a while we get a treat.
After all the back and shoulder pain suffered from shoveling snow,  Mother Nature has rewarded us with an exquisite landscape frosted with delicate ice crystals.  Every tree branch, every twig, every blade of exposed grass, has been transformed into a work of fine art.  Spider webs left from warmer times are now the most intricate bits of lace hanging from eaves and gutters.
The dull monochrome exterior of Winter is now an awe inspiring display of nature's finest work, unrivaled by the hands of man.
We do not possess the tools, nor the ability to create what nature can create with a bit of water and cold air.  We are crude imitators.  Our best is to be mimics; plagiarizers.
And so it should be, for how else could we become inspired?  If the world's artisans and writers had the ability to rival nature, to match its beauty and expose all of its secrets, they would quickly lose interest, and their recipients, you and I, would become bored and jaded.
No, every once in a while we get a treat, and I, for one, am okay with that.