Penguins

It would be impossible not to fall in love with the penguins. They smell, they sound like donkeys when they bray, but they are gorgeous. I went out for my early run this morning, down a road I have run many times, into a familiar Southeaster virtually stopping me in my tracks. I opt for the more sheltered way home, along the boardwalk near Boulders Beach, and I catch my first glimpse of penguins on this trip. Memories of my girls wanting to visit them every day, of swimming in the secluded cove with black and white shapes darting through the swells.

Family

Living in a different city than your siblings is hard. Three siblings in three different continents is even harder. Technology helps. Skype means that we have seen our now 4 year old niece and nephew in the background of the video over a slow connection. Email and Facebook mean that we can share photos, and have a glimpse into the lives that we are not there to share daily. But being there in person, even if only a week, is priceless. How could is possibly be half a lifetime since we were all together?

Rediscover

We have one day before the rest of the family arrives to drive around Capetown and begin the process of adjusting to the fact that we are now in another part of the globe, in a different season, tourists but not really. A visit to the Saturday market at the Biscuit Mill, a walk along the promenade at Seapoint, a seat on the sand to watch the sun sink into the waves at Camps Bay. It is all starting to become familiar - another layer has been added.

Mother City

With only a layover in Johannesburg, the chance to rediscover the city will be delayed a week. Instead we are off to Capetown, and another jumble of memories floating through my mind. First trip with my mother and brother, business trips while I lived here, and visits to my in-laws after they retired to the beautiful ocean. This is the South Africa my girls know. This is where the ashes of their grandfather and grandmother have been scattered. I walk through the town where they lived, and it's as though time does spiral around on itself. I feel that I can reach out and touch them, the memories are so strong. Am I experiencing the present, or are visions of previous trips colliding with my perception?

Home again

When once you have lived somewhere, does it always feel like you are coming home? There is a feeling of belonging, of a different you, and alternate you, that once drove these streets and saw these sunsets. Arriving in Johannesburg at sundown, the sky filled with big fluffy clouds, turning crimson as we land. I know just how the air will feel when I leave the plane, just how the voices will sound. It's been over a day since we left our other home, 11 years since the last visit to South Africa, 17 years since my last glimpse of Johannesburg, but still it feels like coming home.

First Light

Are sunrises so pretty just because they are seen so infrequently for most of us? But everytime I get myself out of bed and to my running group on time, I'm always struck by how lucky I am to be in this moment. Yes - it is hard to stray from the warmth of the down quilt and a few more minutes fading in and out of consciousness, but there are rewards.

Full Moon

Full moons in the winter seem to have this power that doesn't exist in summer. Maybe it is the contrast with the bleak environment. Maybe it is the promise of such bright light during the long hours of darkness. Maybe it is the owls and the coyotes that come to life on these nights.

Side of the Road

In winter, it is pretty common to see bighorn sheep by the side of the road. They love to lick the salt that has been laid down on the road during snowstorms. But how often have I missed them because I have been too focused on my destination? Today, they made sure that I would stop and enjoy. Five males in the road, two of the young ones rearing up on their hind legs and bumping heads in mock charges. Not worried at all that I was only a few feet away.

Last Snow

I always say that Colorado's average winter temperature of 40 is made up of 60 degrees days and 20 degree days. I am loving the the current 60 degrees after all that cold. Tiny pockets of snow still remain in the shadows, but the ground has been saturated with all the moisture.

Hearts

It doesn't have to be expensive, just handmade. A trail of hearts...

Breakfast

Today I am grateful for the chance to share a meal with a good friend who is dying of cancer. No more treatments left for him, but he's looking the best I've seen in quite a while. We both know, more than most, that our days are not infinite, and there is a certain pleasure in living each one that remains. Whether it's the morning run, the breakfast with a friend, the songs of the finches at my bird feeder - there is so much in front of us waiting to be experienced.

Wind

Too slushy in town for a run - an extreme thaw is in the works after all the cold and snow last week. But the high mountains are still full of snow, perfect for a snowshoe. Seeking out a trail that wound through the trees for protection, we headed to Brainard Lake. However - to get the view, we had to break from cover for a few minutes. Bracing ourselves against the bridge next to the lake, we glimpsed the high peaks among the wind whipped snow.

After the storm

It would be difficult to find a sight more stunning than the fresh blanket of new snow against a Colorado blue sky. The snow never seems to stick too long here on the plains - it evaporates before your eyes - so each morning that the Flatirons are frosted is worth catching.

Open

For some reason, I was lulled into thinking that winter would never quite arrive, just a mild brush with the elements and I would be back in my normal routine. How many times do I have to be surprised to realize that I'm not in control, that I can't even predict what might happen next? Yet the unexpected can bring more possibilities if I am open to it.

Alternates

Living in Colorado, there are so many competing options for your outdoor time, it can be hard to choose an activity. At times, it just feels right to be spur of the moment, and head into the back country because the new snow is beckoning and friends want to spend some time together. A leisurely snowshoe beat out all the other alternate activities, and we were treated to an exceptional hike. 12 inches of fresh snow with more fat flakes floating down onto our heads and jackets. Trees drooping with dollops of frosting. No wind, no arctic cold, just winter.

Rose Colored Glasses

The third morning of sub-zero temperatures, bundled up and ready to head out at dawn again. Never had to pull out ski goggles for a run before this week, but I like the fact that my eyelashes are not freezing together in clumps of ice. I didn't expect the reward of a visually enhanced sunrise. The east was a brilliant amber glow as we started out. When the light caught the Flatirons, it was reverberating back onto the plains. Maybe it is worth seeing the world through rose-colored glasses...

Valentine Cactus

This year, I finally remembered to put my Christmas cactus in the basement to force it to bloom. My timing wasn't quite right, but it has rewarded me with a profusion of blooms. Maybe I have invented the Valentine Cactus?

Worth it

This might just have been the coldest morning I've experienced in Boulder in many years. Even school was closed because of the temperatures. But four of us bundled up and were rewarded by yet another beautiful morning. Sometimes I think the beauty of the morning is inversely proportional with the ease of getting out of bed.