Contrast

Winter in the high country. A heavy layer of snow dampens the sounds around me. A throaty rumble underneath shows that the river is still alive in its own subterranean world. It pops up unexpectedly to give a lesson in the different forms of water, then returns to its journey under its winter blanket.

Moonset sunrise

Warm weather has made it easier to creep out from under the covers this week. And this morning I was rewarded with a beautiful crescent moon in the southern sky. The sky went from black to indigo to pink to blue as I watched the sun come up and the moon travel westward.

Open windows

Today I thought I heard finches calling to each other outside. I reminded myself that it is still January, but the burbling song is unmistakable. Windows and doors are open to the air that is warmer than the temperature to which my thermostat is set. The finches must be as surprised by the day as I am, while I savor the shorts and T-shirt, even if only for a few hours.

Indian Spring

Is there such a thing as Indian Spring? A very early harbinger of warmer weather to come. A day when I can run comfortably in shorts. An afternoon when I can sit outside to enjoy a cup of tea. A night when I can crack open the window once again. There are no leaves on the trees, no green to the grass, not even a crocus popping through the debris in my garden, but still, this feels like Indian Spring.

Tilting toward the sun

We have made it through the darkest part of winter. This morning our running group was able to leave the headlamps behind as we set out on the trail at 6:30. The waning moon was enough to guide us the 10 minutes until dawn light infiltrated the east. Hill repeats meant we got to turn around and see the horizon change from indigo to scarlet to orange to yellow every two minutes - a true reality show.

Organizing

Another day in the never-ending quest for organization, with a break for a noon-day run on a balmy day. Although filing and sorting through paper has never been my favorite thing to do, I'm actually happy to have the energy to be able to do this. Things came to a screeching halt two years ago, and it feels good to finally catch up. Maybe it was watching those episodes of Hoarders... Or watching someone you know become obsessed with trying to "get it done". As sure as the sun is going to rise tomorrow, more paper is going to come in the mail this week. Take the energy away from it, and do what you can. There will always be more paper, but there may not be another day in January when you can run in shorts while there is snow on the ground.

Fresh tracks

Fresh tracks on a morning run are not quite the same as when I am skiing, but their prospect still inspires me to get out earlier than I might have planned. Even if it just a tiny bit of untracked powder on the side of the trail, they are now my tracks. I am not sliding where others have put their feet, getting out of rhythm with someone whose stride was longer than mine. I am making my mark, in my own individual way.

Red Winged Blackbirds

Nothing, absolutely nothing, brings me out of the grip of winter faster than the sound of my first red winged blackbird of the year. Ponds have been frozen and wetlands have been silent for weeks, but this morning the familiar raspy voice greeted me at the trailhead. Clinging to last year's reeds, first one bird, then another, starting to call.

Pulling away from the lull

Some days you are so fired up, you can't wait to get out for the hike, the run, the ride. Those are the easy days. And some days you find yourself dreading the activity, even when you've laid out all the gear the night before. But the reward on those days seems even sweeter; it's almost unexpected. The sunrise is just a little more pink. The ice on the trail has melted. And the lull is now behind you instead of staring you down.

Leftovers

Windy and snowblown, but some shelter amidst the pines. Only the hardy should be out. But there, on the side of the trail, three stalks of pinedrops stood tall, daring the wind and snow to blow them over.

Outside

I've realized the weather doesn't really matter (within reason). I love to be outside. Even when the lawns have long gone brown, and spring seems like another lifetime, it is still alive out there. Canada geese graze the brown grass. Squirrels still tease my dogs and hide their peanuts in my flower pots. Something makes tracks in the snow before I get out on my run.

To Wait

Why is it that we always seem to be waiting for the next thing? Kelly goes out for a run, and the dogs patiently wait for her return. Funny, because normally the dogs are the ones that live in the moment. I guess the squirrels weren't running past the front door to bring them back to the present.

Just do it

This morning I was reminded of the Nike logo - Just Do It. The arctic cold front came into town last night, and the forecast for the morning workout was to be below zero. But the carmometer showed an even zero while I waited in the car in the dark, layering on more clothes. The reward was another pink sunrise reflected off the Flatirons and a vertical rainbow of ice crystals hovering over town.

Sunday time

There are all sorts of rituals for the day of rest - church, meditation, big family dinner, football. For runners, it is the long run. A chance to go slow, to chat, to look up. Fresh snow was falling, beginning to cover the trail and the hidden rocks, forcing us to take notice of our surroundings. The mountains were hidden from sight, but the grasses on the plains stood strong and golden against the white backdrop. White blankets draped the backs of the black cows grazing in the open meadows. We got the opportunity to put down fresh tracks in the snow, already history by the time we returned to the trailhead.

Angle of the sun

Even at midday, the sun is still low on the horizon. The grass that catches the weak winter sun glows golden while the shadows reveal that winter is still in control.

Sounds of Winter

Depending on the time of year and the weather, a different sense may come to the front of my consciousness. Yesterday morning as we made our way next to the creek in the predawn glow, an owl was hooting, so softly I began to doubt. Today, although the creek is low and partially frozen, there are places where the water breaks free and shouts out to the nearby trail.

Thermometers

With so much technology around, you think I could do a better job of figuring out the temperature outside as I prepared to set off in the dark and meet my running group. The indoor/outdoor thermometer that sits on my kitchen counter had been acting up, and I had my doubts that it could possibly be 8. On to the internet I searched - could it really be 20? Drive to the trailhead with the carmometer dropping steadily, but only to 18. Run along the frozen trail - it is definitely 8. All the signs that don't require this fancy technology - my eyelashes are freezing together in chunks from my watery eyes, I'm finding it hard to say words with M's or B's, we all have halos of white hair surrounding our heads. Tomorrow I will trust the signs.

Go with the flow

Sometimes, you have to be ready to go with the flow. The weather might have its own mind; a daughter might have the car you need to get to the trailhead. By waiting to take my run this morning, I was able to enjoy the footsteps of my husband alongside me, a warm wind bringing relief to the icy temperature, and two bald eagles flying overhead, diving and racing on the wind.

Happy New Year

Goodbye to a wonderful year. Hello to another 365 opportunities. An arctic cold front made us all appreciate the crackling fire, especially when the power (and the furnace and the water) went out for over two hours. The soups had been made, and the wood burning stove kept them warm. Soft light from the candles and the fire washed over all of us, fading the wrinkles and enhancing the smiles. Frost formed an intricate pattern on the windows, creating a barrier between us and the howling, icy wind outside.