A winter's walk

Regardless of whether or not everyone's calendars get taken down and replaced with new ones, Mother Nature takes no notice of a new year. It is still cold, still dark, still winter. There are still slopes for Abby to toboggan down with great glee, still ice rinks for Rich to skate on in his stinky hockey gear, still trails for me to take slow waddle-walks on with Skylar. So while the scenery outside my front door is the same, I take great enjoyment from refreshing my own body with cold air breathed in and out.
Into the woods.It is late in the afternoon, about 3 o'clock or so, and already the sun has long since tucked in for bed.


I crunch, crunch my heavy feet along the well-used path, unable to keep up with Skylar who bounds and leaps into snow piles, after chipmunks. I take my time, as my body demands, and notice how even though there are few colours in this palette, there is great detail to be appreciated.

We don't walk far from our neighbourhood; I can't stray too far these days. A quick hike is all I can muster, so instead of marveling at the mountains like I enjoy on the long walk, I smile at the quaint reminders of domestic hibernation around every corner.

We make our loop through the woods; Skylar has found a stick she will keep and bring home, leaving it at the front door. I round the corner onto my street, in front of my house, and return to my cozy hideaway of hot chocolate, couches and blankets for another night north of 60.