Monday, January 18, 2010


Well it’s about time! Morning mist burns away, the skies clear, my oh my, it is one gorgeous day!

Ed, we need to get out and go!
Where to?
No matter. Pick a destination! It’s winter’s best! The day you hope for on all other miserable days up here! We’re out!
Where to?
Let’s rent skis and do a long spin around Blue Mounds! Or let’s drive up to Bayfield and hike along Lake Superior!
Let’s go!

Maybe not. I have more than a fair share of work to do. We stay home.

In the afternoon, I can’t take it anymore. Ed, look at that sky – it’s deep blue! It’s been such a long time!

We do what I have done over the years when there has been no time to do much of anything: we head for Owen Woods. It’s a fine park just a quarter mile from here, and it has hiking trails and I know it inside out, and on a day like this, you can take a photo or two that really highlight how brilliant a Madison day can be, come January.



Except – the park is sort of small.


We hike every bit of trail, every loop, and I look at the time and note that only 45 minutes have come and gone since we set out.


Do you want to do it all over again, only in reverse? -- This from Ed. Things look different from the other side...


We climb into his rusty Geo with the pink stripes on the side and head back home. To work.

and so it continues

I am pretty adept at recognizing when something is killing me (my work habits right now) even as I am less adept at understanding how best to survive the circumstances.

The skies remain gray. I suggest to Ed that we get some outdoor movement going while the temps remain above insane levels. At the same time, I understand that I have no time to do anything right now. It is the way things are.

We go to Picnic Point because it’s close and it’s really quite the wonderful retreat: you walk to the tip of the point and back, and you never feel guilty for walking too little because that’s all there, is - take it or leave it: there and back.

A few dogs, walkers, fishermen.


But no sunshine. No brilliantly clear skies, no crisp air – none of that. Just a frozen scape.


And a familiar skyline. With the capitol there, if you know to look for it.


In the evening I am with my corner shop associates, at our store manager’s home for a celebration of the year gone by and, I suppose more importantly, of the one ahead.



These things stand out for me. Colors on a gray day. Everything else is a blur.