This'll send me chug-chug-chugging around the bend before long, and Steps will have to be taken. Next weekend there's all sorts of Stuff To Do. But for the moment, it's bliss, the antidote to the hectic holidays and harried summer. I'm back on my thousand-words-a-morning routine, taking care of various chores in the afternoon. At 5 or so Rob and I meet at the woodstove and spend the evening chatting, reading, and watching news or a movie. I've knitted my first pair of socks (thank you for the lessons, Lisa) ... just have to bind off one and redo the toe on the other. (Anal at all, Ellen? Nah.)
Yesterday I went skiing on the newish walking trail a group of fine citizens created in the woods behind our house. This snow was particularly difficult to break trail in--your skis sank down about eight inches, where they slid along fine but your legs had to shovel all this snow out of the way. At one point I actually found myself thinking, "There's too much snow!" (Hm. Maybe the chug-chug-chugging has started already.)
Here's what the trail ahead looked like, when I'd been skiing for about 15 minutes and was sweating in 15-degrees F.
But once I muscled my way across to the main trail, some other wonderful person had been there before me, so I could just ski. Better yet, he or she or they had skied all the way down to Herrick Bay:
Here's the trail home--our house is just behind the trees. This used to be the road to Naskeag Point, generations ago, and we blocked it with a little bit of our house (the addition for my mother, actually). I keep waiting to be haunted by annoyed Red Paint People and early Europeans, but nothing so far.
And here I am, in mid-sweat.
Charming view up my nose, hey?
Last summer was spectacular, and so far this winter is, too. The summer before was all foggy and cold, and last winter ended way too early, so I guess we've earned it. But the Puritan in me says we'll pay for it...guess I won't pack away any sweaters this spring.
I'm heading out again now.