Time Tested

Time was I kept a schedule with no time lapses. Lately, I've taken out time to keep up with the ever-changing positioning of the stars and planets. Wintertime nights are filled with twinkling specks of starlight and I wonder if this is endless time. No, I could make a timetable with the moon's cycle and the mercurial stars. For instance, one evening Venus was on top of the setting moon and then Venus jumped over the moon to the western horizon the next night. I'll make time to watch the dark skies and stay with the everlasting.

Go from Here

Today I skied for 2 hours from my front door. I slipped away from laundry, Xmas obligations, the financial crisis and didn't look back. Aided by a 4-wheel truck that had broke through the 8 inches of snow, I kicked and glided up to a flat mesa while listening to Michael Franti singing, "lift up my arms higher because you never know when you might die." This area should have been familiar, but snow laden branches and misty vistas were disorientating. I caught a glimpse of ice patches floating in Wide Hollow reservoir and knew it was time to turn around. My only fall was around a bend when the thick powder grabbed my ski. When I returned home, a new snowman addition awaited me. He winked at me, letting me know everything is changing.

Leisurely Snowshoeing

Yesterday I strapped on a pair of snowshoes after a brief hiatus. The first thing I recognized: I wasn't skiing. The snaillike pace forced me to look around for my stimulation. Changes were happening fast in this isolated canyon: rocks were weeping, ice covered smooth boulders, strained-striped walls dripped like tar. The steep cliffs narrowed as I stomped through crusty, shaded snow. Birds (Juncos?) hopped in and out salt bushes or ventured up a towering Ponderosa tree. Sage scents wafted around me as the snow evaporated. Yep, time was not moving very fast snowshoeing. Now, if I was a snowflake...