ever since the snow arrived, i have been waiting for it to disappear. the ground is too warm. the sun too high. it’s just wrong.
but it isn’t.
i am experiencing a bit of nordic fever now, which is not to be confused with a recent bout of swine flu where i developed a high fever and wanted to fuck in the mud. no…this is nordic fever where i float like a ballerina atop groomed trails and ski from sunrise to sunset.
and i can’t wait.
inland, the woods remain alluring and enticing. boughs of spruce and fir bend with new snow, unwilling to let go of it’s place in a vertical world.
stories of purpose and intent.
winter comes and sometimes, it does so with subtle undertones. sometimes, it comes and says “this is the way it will be for the next 5 months and you either deal with it or bitch about it.”
i am not bitching, at all.
this is good.