That Time of Year
Today was the first long underwear day of the year.
The stars were out last night and I slept with two comforters. When I woke this morning, the thermometer seemed to be hovering around the low 30s. Brrr.
With long underwear, jeans, two base layers on top, a fleece vest, a pullover fleece, a rain jacket, and knit hat on, I only got hot once today. Granted we didn’t do anything too strenuous; the six odd miles we walked today on the way to Herbert Glacier were relatively flat. We spent most of the day out the road. The trail is at 27 mile and then the Shrine, where I conducted interviews and took photos for a story, is at 23 mile.
Despite not planning too many activities over the weekend, the two days passed by quickly and I felt busy the whole time. Until right about now.
It’s that time of year when darkness keeps nudging at daylight, telling it go away; when mountaintops look more and more white each time they’re exposed, which isn’t too often; when leaves that have fallen are always wet – you’ll never see a kid jumping into a pile of leaves here; when snow seems to be just a moment away; when hot herbal tea in the evening is a necessity; when roasting a turkey seems like the only logical thing to do – in fact, the oven should always be baking something; when I start thinking I should pick up knitting again; when I daydream about wearing a tank top on a beach in Southeast Asia; when the whole work day feels like perpetual dusk; when it makes sense to just hole up in a cabin with a wood stove and wait for spring.
The stars were out last night and I slept with two comforters. When I woke this morning, the thermometer seemed to be hovering around the low 30s. Brrr.
With long underwear, jeans, two base layers on top, a fleece vest, a pullover fleece, a rain jacket, and knit hat on, I only got hot once today. Granted we didn’t do anything too strenuous; the six odd miles we walked today on the way to Herbert Glacier were relatively flat. We spent most of the day out the road. The trail is at 27 mile and then the Shrine, where I conducted interviews and took photos for a story, is at 23 mile.
Despite not planning too many activities over the weekend, the two days passed by quickly and I felt busy the whole time. Until right about now.
It’s that time of year when darkness keeps nudging at daylight, telling it go away; when mountaintops look more and more white each time they’re exposed, which isn’t too often; when leaves that have fallen are always wet – you’ll never see a kid jumping into a pile of leaves here; when snow seems to be just a moment away; when hot herbal tea in the evening is a necessity; when roasting a turkey seems like the only logical thing to do – in fact, the oven should always be baking something; when I start thinking I should pick up knitting again; when I daydream about wearing a tank top on a beach in Southeast Asia; when the whole work day feels like perpetual dusk; when it makes sense to just hole up in a cabin with a wood stove and wait for spring.
posted by Siapiau | 8:35 PM
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