Late November Walk

It snowed most of the night. The north sides of the trees are checkerboards of white, where the flakes stick to patterns in the bark.

Wind is gusting from the north and I stop to find out what that noise is over my steps. It is the bare trees above me, whining from the winter wind. Is there a more cold and lonely sound than that?

The frog pond is frozen solid now, probably for good until late February. Ben and Maggie have a memory of this, when the water turns hard and we walk over it. Ben seems like he is smiling, as if to say 'this is so cool, to be on the pond' The grasses and juncus that stick through the ice are covered with half-inch delicate ice crystals in the early mornings.

Ben puts his nose deep in each fox track in the snow, surely less than 15 minutes old, not covered yet by what is coming down. He follows them off the trail til I hold him back. He lifts his head and scans the woods for their owner.

I work hard to pull myself up the north hill. My pack has 50 pounds of weight in it, so that I will stay in shape for backpacking.

The weight feels good. I think I am getting stronger. Walking in these woods and meadows is also good, for me, physically and spiritually. Its so beautiful out here during a snow it feels like I must be a short throw to heaven.