Winter sits heavy at our house. We frequently rise, exercise, leave the house and eventually return to it in darkness, the hazy daylight hours spent behind the artificial glow of a pair of monitors that obscures our vision from almost anything else.
All week I imagine the adventures that Saturday might hold, but by the time the weekend arrives, I’m too tired to care. A sedentary lifestyle has its own way of stretching out my desire to go anywhere and do anything, despite the fact that the anxieties that accompany the ease of modern life rarely leave me exhausted enough to get a decent nights sleep.
With little interest in spending any more time in the car to get to our favorite skiing haunts, we’ve been sticking close to home. Last weekend, we slipped and stumbled up the quick walk to the waterfall in the hills near our home, the way smoothed slick with ice. Our running shoes glided and skittered across the frozen trail until we arrived at the falls pouring into a castle of ice, dotted with pretty ice baubles. For about twenty minutes of effort, we were rewarded with the rushing of water and the quiet solitude of nature.
In case the outside solace wasn’t enough, the afternoon was crowned an epic success when I noticed a pair of eagles soaring overhead.We scrambled up the steep, rocky ridge to follow a rutted dirt road, stumbling along the slick snowpack and watching the migrating bald eagles soar and dive among the scruffy round peaks that back our hometown.
I’ve never loved winter like this before.