3.2.14 A Beautiful Winter's Tromp

This afternoon I set out with a very itchy one-year-old Dante pup into the snow covered fields for a beautiful winters tromp.

The air was clear and brisk, the snow a little softened by the warm day, as we put one foot in front of the other,often falling down a foot or so through the crust

But often, he danced about on the surface of the crust, bringing his toy and having it tossed a far, only to twirl and spin and glide in delight as he ran after it.

Noticing a flickering of sorts in the clouds, I looked above and saw streams of lines emanating from the sunset, and stretching from one end of the sky to the other. And as I watched, they glimmered, these long lines. 

Oh, I tried to capture them with photographs, and then a video, but it would not work.
So we continued down the field, enjoying the rapidly changing sunset, the cloud formations that would sweep into the neighborhood and leave just as quickly.

Overhead,a large bird leisurely and powerfully passed by. I have seen t

hree Eagles this week flying by here in my yard, and last week a pair of them in the tree next to my office. But this was no eagle, yet it was a large bird, and moved quickly through the air. As soon as it was out of sight, it's mate followed. That's been happening a lot around here. A lot of racing about in the air, courting; mating. I watched through the silhouette of the trees; off they went.

As the sky darkened, we slowly turned in our path, and made our way clump clump clump up through the thick snow back to the house, Dante bringing me his toys and to throw

 and faster, knowing that the walk was soon over and faster, knowing that the walk was soon over.

Sometimes I feel like when we were five, and mourned the loss of everything that changed. Shoes or clothes you grow out of. Not wanting to finish one age. Getting to the next age, , and loving it so much, not wanting to leave that age. I'm that way with the seasons, always.

Though was one year long ago when my children were small, and somebody was sick continuously for the entire winter. Entire winter, you couldn't bring everybody to the store or anywhere. Somebody always had to stay home with whoever was sick at the moment. No sleep. It became a necessity to grow an endless well of empathy and patience. By the time everyone was better, we had to rush to celebrate one child's November birthday, before the next one's May birthday had arrived. That year, I was both sick of pesticide exposures, the ensuing chaos and danger to my kids health, as I figured out and learned how to treat it naturopathically, and I got really sick of winter.

But here I am, at 61, breathing in the beginning of March. I even saw a chipmunk this morning; waking early from their torpid winters rest?
In the meantime, both dogs have fur coming out in clumps. Dante is almost a chrysalis, discarding some layer for a brand new self. 

The buds on the aged Maples that tower over our home are growing larger, and the stand of young Witch Hazel trees today had their beautiful catkins grown and shining in the sunset.
We watched a not-cautious-enough Vole off in the trees wander about, possibly tired of their winter 'a stores and hungry for fresh seeds,
as the sun set and the pup raced and bounced, tigger style, and I thought that maybe I shall enjoy spring after all.