Sunday, January 29, 2012
we'll take it!
A half an inch of fresh snow – light, fluffy, you know the kind: it doesn’t quite settle in, but instead, hovers loosely, prettily over whatever was there before. In this case, it covers a layer of ice along our dirt driveway and, more importantly, it covers (ever so lightly) ski trails in the area.
But it wont last. Put a handful of skiers on it and it will be back to the new normal this year: bare patches along our forest trails.
We should be out there before all others, I tell Ed. The side of me that wants to seize the moment before it shatters and disappears is especially prodding us out of the house early. The week ahead will have a warm spell. What little snow there is will surely disappear soon.
The sun plays with the few puffy clouds. One minute we're dazzled in light, the next -- we're a somber blue.
By 9 we’re in our local county park. I can’t say that it’s blissfully quiet. A helicopter is running electrical components in the nearby Yahara wetlands and in fact, part of the park is closed for safety reasons.
That’s okay. We have a good loop that takes us away from it all.
Back toward Lake Waubesa, where the ice fishermen hang out.
It’s cold and blustery outside and I’m thinking maybe it would have been better to eat the breakfast oatmeal before the ski run. But, the sun is out and the sky has that early morning tint to it and it puts us both in such pleasant moods that I forget about the work and the cleaning and the tedious stuff that’ll frame the rest of the day.
Nice work, Ed. Only, could it be that you’re slowing down? I shout back at him.
I’m having a contemplative moment. I don't rush things, like you.
Good job staying upright on the hills! I retort.
Good job not breaking your camera! He answers.
And so we continue in this way until our loop is done and our gear is thrown in the back of the car again, with the hope that there’ll be another chance to use it this season.
In other news: may I give a piece of market advice for The Great Investors out there? My bet is that Apple is puffed itself out to be way out there, even as it is not altogether way out there. It's merely a company that sells machines and it isn't magic, nor intuitive, nor easy, because machines aren't magic or intuitive or easy and if you want to ride the cloud of hyper-nonsense about Apple's capabilities to do everything perfectly, feel free, but I'm not going to be there with you.
I wont spend much space on explaining how both Ed and I spent the better part of the afternoon working on getting on iCloud and upgrading my OS on my current MacBrookPro. That's boring. But I will complain about how many things in this whole procedure were odd and in fact downright nervewrackingly convoluted. I don't blame Apple for that. Technology IS complicated. I just wish it would fess up and not pretend differently.
Otherwise: yes, there's an otherwise. Otherwise, it was such a beautiful day. Isis was at the farmhouse with us. He decided we're worth the trek up the lightly snow-covered path.
But it wont last. Put a handful of skiers on it and it will be back to the new normal this year: bare patches along our forest trails.
We should be out there before all others, I tell Ed. The side of me that wants to seize the moment before it shatters and disappears is especially prodding us out of the house early. The week ahead will have a warm spell. What little snow there is will surely disappear soon.
The sun plays with the few puffy clouds. One minute we're dazzled in light, the next -- we're a somber blue.
By 9 we’re in our local county park. I can’t say that it’s blissfully quiet. A helicopter is running electrical components in the nearby Yahara wetlands and in fact, part of the park is closed for safety reasons.
That’s okay. We have a good loop that takes us away from it all.
Back toward Lake Waubesa, where the ice fishermen hang out.
It’s cold and blustery outside and I’m thinking maybe it would have been better to eat the breakfast oatmeal before the ski run. But, the sun is out and the sky has that early morning tint to it and it puts us both in such pleasant moods that I forget about the work and the cleaning and the tedious stuff that’ll frame the rest of the day.
Nice work, Ed. Only, could it be that you’re slowing down? I shout back at him.
I’m having a contemplative moment. I don't rush things, like you.
Good job staying upright on the hills! I retort.
Good job not breaking your camera! He answers.
And so we continue in this way until our loop is done and our gear is thrown in the back of the car again, with the hope that there’ll be another chance to use it this season.
In other news: may I give a piece of market advice for The Great Investors out there? My bet is that Apple is puffed itself out to be way out there, even as it is not altogether way out there. It's merely a company that sells machines and it isn't magic, nor intuitive, nor easy, because machines aren't magic or intuitive or easy and if you want to ride the cloud of hyper-nonsense about Apple's capabilities to do everything perfectly, feel free, but I'm not going to be there with you.
I wont spend much space on explaining how both Ed and I spent the better part of the afternoon working on getting on iCloud and upgrading my OS on my current MacBrookPro. That's boring. But I will complain about how many things in this whole procedure were odd and in fact downright nervewrackingly convoluted. I don't blame Apple for that. Technology IS complicated. I just wish it would fess up and not pretend differently.
Otherwise: yes, there's an otherwise. Otherwise, it was such a beautiful day. Isis was at the farmhouse with us. He decided we're worth the trek up the lightly snow-covered path.
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