The mist of the storm covers the sky,
The whirlwinds of snow are spinning;
Now, like a wild beast it calls,
now it cries like a child,
Now about the roof, decrepit,
Suddenly it rustles the thatches,
Now, like a traveler overdue,
to us on the window knocks. – pushkin

Ok. Can spring come any sooner? We are definitely still in the midst of winter’s lost days. I should take heart. I can see the sun is now tracking higher in the sky. Each day is slightly longer than the last. I know the cold must break soon. When I was a kid I used to imagine what would happen if spring just never came!? I think there is probably a Michael Criton book in there somewhere. On the other hand, even knowing that spring will come does not always help. My mind is still swayed by the vast purple wasteland outside my window. The windswept frozen fields extend from our stone foundations out into the distant blues and reds of the pre-dawn. It looks like Siberia. It’s winter. It’s cold.

I’ve taken some comfort in finding pools to play in this year. I’m not much for swimming so I never took much interest in pools until kayaking became part of my being. Now I really enjoy the pool. It is wonderful to roll like a dizzy otter in the warm blue water. And yet, the pool seems a bit like an affair with a bombshell. It’s a great time, but there’s no substance. And I’m a sucker for freckles. It’s the imperfections that make life worth living. I don’t think I’d stay interested in kayaking if every day were windless and 80f and the water were always warm and placid. It sure sounds like a dream but in truth, I think I’d get bored.

Yet on the other hand, looking out my window this morning I’m not ready to give up the affair yet either.

- d

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