There's fog early in the morning. Not serious stuff (as it appears to me). Pretty wetness that clings to thin branches and makes them look very lacy, very fragile.
I have no appointments, no meetings and so I can work at home. After breakfast.
This is the day that I get back to doing yoga and that's really good, because it's been a while since I've stretched myself into a downdog or a pigeon pose. On the way to class, I pause to watch deer to the side of the road.
They look at me, I look at them. It takes no more than a second for them to decide to flee.
I wonder if they're made bolder by the weather? By the sunshine? By the feeling of spring? I rarely see deer at this time of day. Maybe they need that indulgence? That lovely warm feeling of sun on your back?
I get that very feeling today: Ed and I do our final ski run for the year (I know, I know, there have been a lot of finals, but this is the real one... there will be no more). It's almost evening and the sun is low. But it feels good and warm. I unzip my jacket. We're both hatless.
The snow isn't great. Icy in places, thin in other spots. We go off trail for a while and that really is painful: wet, deep, uncomfortable. But it doesn't matter. It's like being on the final minutes of a vacation -- you feel protective, attached to the time, the place. Our ski runs this year have been wonderful. You can't help but feel somewhat nostalgic about letting them go now.
Supper. Tomato soup, to use up those bags of garden tomatoes in our freezer. Next week, we'll be starting seeds for this years crop. Incredible to think that we are this close to the growing season.
