Krista came through with room breakfast and story time this weekend. We had a floor picnic of eggs and bacon and hashbrowns and yogurt and fruit and giant pancake, then read aloud from classics and new literary delights, like "We Found a Hat" and "This Is Not My Hat." It was lovely to stay inside and sit around in pajamas for hours. Otherwise, I have been getting after it -- skiing every other day, re-breaking the trail after 18" of snow, miring in the woods where it's thigh-deep, farcically crashing through thin ice coating a huge culvert, even...rowing along to Ke$ha in the gym.
The days have narrowed to the extent that it's dusk when I wake up at 11:30am and nighttime at 4pm. The beautiful blueish light of the muted half-tone landscape, the subtle pinkish-peach airbrushed hillsides when clouds part, and the snow's seeming luminescence meld into an alluring, mellow palette. Soon we'll reach the nadir, and again the light will grow; but for a time we pause, becalmed in the quiet cold.
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