It snowed last night. Not the icy shower we got in December. Not the wet two inches we got in January. Not the scant dusting that comes and goes leaving nothing more than a thin cover over packed ice. It snowed the beautiful snow of the high mountains. Light powder, several inches of it, covering every mistake and imperfection that winter has carved out thus far. In the morning, the sun is out, the skies are crystal clear. This, my dears, is what makes us love winter so much!
I am still mightily bruised from my ice tumble yesterday, but I can tell that nothing is shattered or punctured and even the swollen knee will recover at some point, perhaps in the near future. In other words, I'm on the mend so I wont fret about it. Indeed, I joined Ed in shoveling outside. The snow is light, the air is bracing, the farmette lands look splendid with their winter quilt of white stuff.
Breakfast, on the other hand, shows just how muddled the season can be: on the one hand, we have our warm oatmeal and I have the furnace up to give us plenty of warm air and there is a candle on the table celebrating the coziness of the season. On the other hand, Ed and I are talking about our spring planting project. I have ordered some stuff for it and I need to read up on how best to transform the soil out back to something more hospitable to the new arrivals than solid clay. Too, I bought a small bouquet of flowers at our grocery store (we're still doing home deliveries) and it could not shout more clearly that it belongs to the season that comes after winter!
Winter beauty and spring thoughts. They often go hand in hand.
In the afternoon I decide to throw caution to the wind and go skiing with Ed. I just cannot resist it: perfect snow, perfect sunshine. It's as close to a majestic mountain winter day as we get around here.
Despite the fact that my rib cage still feels like it's on fire, though not as blazing a flame as last night, and I still cant use my knee in all possible bends and permutations, nonetheless, I feel like we ought to aim big today. We have a number of Nordic ski trails within about an hour's drive of the farmette. I pick a cluster to the east -- in the Kettle Moraine State Forest.
And it is beautiful! We are a little late to arrive. Ed had slept until the noon hour, we lingered and dallied and did this and did that. (For example, I conducted a mega transaction today: I sold my apartment in Warsaw.) Still, we have a few hours of daylight left. The trails are full of new snow and most of them are beautifully groomed and ready for us devoted Nordic types. We choose the intermediate runs. None of this sissy gentle stuff. (My ribs will never be the same again! Uff!)
We see fewer than a handful of others. We have the peace of a snow covered forest. What more could a person want...
We drive home in that blissful state of quiet satisfaction. It was such a stunning winter day! We are grateful and content. (And a little sore.)
With love...
