snowshoe

The smooth, white surface lay at my feet, stretching around the field from fence line to fence line. It was smooth, but not flat, the contours of the land were highlighted by the blanket which blurred the features and added a few of its own. Patterns in the snowdrifts caught my eye. My snowshoes sunk a bit more in the snow but still supported my weight where I would otherwise  be past my knees, my boots filling up with cold crystals, at one with the deep snow rather than on top like a conquering hero. The sun shone with all its might trying to vanquish the cold. Wind dropped at the sun's insistence.

It was glorious.

Each step brought me deeper into the photograph, my footsteps maring the perfect scene. Other footprints crossed in front of me, I turned to Christina for her opinion. Fox. She would know, living as she does close to nature on her farm. I pulled off my gloves and opened my coat a bit more; I was warm with exertion and the radiant heat from the sun. I tipped my head to the sky and smiled. This, every moment of this, would be in my list of things to be grateful for. I glanced at Christina - did she know she'd also be in my list, especially because she shook me out of my lazy afternoon and encouraged this trip into Eden.

I've been playing the 70s music channel on the satellite - the familiar music is a salve for overexposure to American politics. It's like I've been frozen in time and am unable to escape the chords of Johnny Nash's 'I can see clearly now', which has become a bit of an earworm…