Finding Winter

Winter here in the West has not been, by a skier’s standards, the finest. But nonetheless, we’ve found  cold and snow, sporadically, with effort, and with great bouts of spring-time warmth in between. In a forest service cabin, on the mountainside, in the depths of Cooke City. It’s been a winter of mourning for a hound dog that kept pace by my side for fifteen years, and so I must say that everything in this landscape feels slightly off, tainted with grief–both mine and others.

But this is life, and mountains, and climate change. And you carry on, and you look for the glimmers.

You stare at photos as if they might be all that’s left, but the truth is they’re just a metaphor for what stirs your heart.

picture of the dog

Rest in peace, dear Tucker.

 

Powder Days

It’s easy to give in to the pattern of working life, to convince yourself you don’t have time. My three jobs are  wearing me down this winter.  Friday, I nearly turned the wrong way on a one-way street. Cause: burned-out brain. I try to remind myself that being outdoors is the thing that brings relief and recovery.  I  spent the last two days skiing with fabulous women. Good times. Vitamin N (nature). Powder. Trees. Trees covered in powder. Tonight, lying on the couch, I feel exhausted in the right, relaxed way. Revitalization achieved.

Headed towards Monday, and more snow on the way.