Waiting

New Year

Hike at Pratt's Falls

and then there was one

Zoom Out

I guess it was too easy... the icicle was the only one that seemed to throw people off--

Guess what?

a good day (a mental picture)

this morning was a good day- I didnt have a camera,

but I have a picture of it in my head--

starting at 9:30am, gives plenty of time so no rushing. not feeling rushed is so nice. the fog is thick and hangs low in the sky, covering the tops of the hills in mist. The sun rises up over the horizon and before long the sky is bright blue and the fog has all disappeared. the bright sun bounces off the snow on the ground, off the ice on the trees, and catches the water just beyond the ice around the edge of the lake. the steep rock cliffs along the shoreline reflect the sun's glare and weep icicles and small trickles of water from the cracks between the layers of shale and limestone. the red cottages stand out in the snowy landscape, tucked in bed for the winter by blankets of snow. the docks rest still, pulled out of the water for the season. flocks of waterfowl are busy in the middle of the lake, diving and circling just past the iceline. a bald eagle sits perched on the edge of the ice, looking out into the open water. the sound of a rushing stream echoes off the hillside, but is hidden beneath a frozen waterfall of ice. we check the hemlocks and record the house numbers, painted on old rusty mailboxes and hanging on plaques above garage doors and old boathouses. the winding road up the west shore is hardpacked with snow and unplowed. we park under the canopy of giant willow trees, full of singing chickadees. the trail is marked with old boot tracks and cross country skii lines, but covered in a light dusting of new snow. the busy lives of woodland creatures is written in the footprints of rabbits, raccoons, deer, and mice that line the trail and criss cross from tree to tree. the snow is packed and crunchy. the sun is bright and my eyes squint from the light. the sound of the creek below drowns out the chickadee voices and we walk along the edge of the ravine, checking now and then for a glimpse of the frozen waterfalls. the hemlock branches are coated with a thin covering of snow, and their tiny pine cones litter the ground. we walk for a while, without talking. The sound of the rushing water and the crunching of my boots in the snow is relaxing, energizing. yellow flags mark the steep trail as it winds up the hill, away from the ravine. a pileated woodpecker calls in the distance. the woods is beautiful, peaceful, every tree standing out against the white snow and intense blue of the sky. we eat lunch under the watchful eyes of the chickadees, who come in closer to see whats going on and, I imagine, to see what might be left behind. the warmth of the sun soaks into my shoulders through my black fleece. my mind is clear. I could stay out here all day. But the clock on the cellphone reminds us we must head back. steam rises off the top of the mug-- the taste of chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon and almond lasts the car ride back. happy country music on the radio. I walk up the marble steps and find my cluttered desk. back inside...back to email and phone messages...but my hair smells clean like cold air and as the snow melts of my boots, a few hemlock needles end up on the floor under my chair. its a good day so far