The quiet of our snow covered valley is never so clear as when you hear the crunch and squeak of you boots on the new fallen snow. Out for a stroll up Whitter Gulch Road to Squaw Pass this past Sunday, the quiet was deafening. Its a nice dirt road that helps keeps the place local, not too many fancy cars on the dirt...
It was very cold as the Sun had fallen behind the mountains on one side though it still warmed the very tips of the mountains on the East side of the valley. Every branch of every tree was covered in snow. It was clear to me where the idea for "flocked" Christmas trees came from.
You'd think you'd be able to see your breath clearly in such cold but the air was so dry there was almost none visible.
At one point, two dogs joined me in my hike. They ran through the snow and rough-housed with each other. One white and one black. Blue scarf and red scarf around their necks. The white one bigger. Their noses white with frost.
After awhile the owner of the dogs came by in his pick-up and asked after the dogs. We chatted a spell and I told him the last view I had of them. A mile up the road, here comes the pick-up again. "Still haven't caught up to those darn dogs!" he laughed through the open truck window. "I figure when they get hungry they'll high tail it home." And drove away.
Seems to me we all high tail it home when we are hungry - whether figuratively or literally.
I know I turned around half way up the road, not just 'cause it was getting dark, but because I knew there was some literal, steaming hot vegetable soup on the stove, a warm fire, and Charlotte, waiting back there.
It was a good walk to start and to finish. Hard and easy. Cold and hot. Yin and Yang. Light and dark.
A little hike, just like life.
Namaste.
It was very cold as the Sun had fallen behind the mountains on one side though it still warmed the very tips of the mountains on the East side of the valley. Every branch of every tree was covered in snow. It was clear to me where the idea for "flocked" Christmas trees came from.
You'd think you'd be able to see your breath clearly in such cold but the air was so dry there was almost none visible.
At one point, two dogs joined me in my hike. They ran through the snow and rough-housed with each other. One white and one black. Blue scarf and red scarf around their necks. The white one bigger. Their noses white with frost.
After awhile the owner of the dogs came by in his pick-up and asked after the dogs. We chatted a spell and I told him the last view I had of them. A mile up the road, here comes the pick-up again. "Still haven't caught up to those darn dogs!" he laughed through the open truck window. "I figure when they get hungry they'll high tail it home." And drove away.
Seems to me we all high tail it home when we are hungry - whether figuratively or literally.
I know I turned around half way up the road, not just 'cause it was getting dark, but because I knew there was some literal, steaming hot vegetable soup on the stove, a warm fire, and Charlotte, waiting back there.
It was a good walk to start and to finish. Hard and easy. Cold and hot. Yin and Yang. Light and dark.
A little hike, just like life.
Namaste.
1 comment:
Sounds like a great hike. My lungs probably would have given out before I got to the end of your driveway. I would have been forced to return to the warmth of the fire and your wonderful wife.
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