On the road again

(Buckeye Trail (before the snow). December 2007. © Robin)

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before leading wherever I choose.

~ Walt Whitman (“Song of the Open Road,” Leaves of Grass)

M and I are taking off again, going away for a long weekend. I can’t tell you where we’re going because it’s a secret. A birthday secret.

But I’m sure I’ll have something to tell or show when we return.

I’m 49 years old today. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that right now. It’s easy to say “it is what it is.” It’s another thing to feel that way.

It’s been a day of reckoning in some ways. More than a day really, but it peaked today. I suspect it’s going to stretch on for a little while longer. I’d like to think that once I get through this sometimes dark patch of introspection I’ll be ready to move on to where I thought I’d be at this point in my life.

See you next week.

White, white, white

(Nature’s holiday decorations. December 2007. © Robin)

Everything is equal in the snow: all trees, all lawns, all streets, all rooftops, all cars. Everything is white, white, white, as far as you can see. Covered by snow, the well-kept and neglected lawns look the same. The snow hides the shiny newness of a just-bought car as effectively as it does the rust and dents of a ten-year-old one. Everything looks clean and fresh and unmarred by time or use. Snow, like the silent death it counterfeits, is a great leveler.

~ Adrienne Ivey

It started snowing again while we slept last night. The snow is still coming down, quite heavily, as the morning grows old.

(Blizzard. December 2007. © Robin)

This would be a good day to learn how to snowshoe.

(The disappearing pond. December 2007.  © Robin)