fall

The beginning of the week.

and… the end, up higher:

I used to go to the woods above my farm in Va. In my childhood years, I was riding all the time. As I grew older, in hiigh school and when I returned from college, I would hike up the hill (we called it a mountain). By then, my father wasn’t riding. He had moved on to training race horses or some such involvement. It was low level, not Kentucky Derby. He was keen on horses and this was his way of staying involved.

When I was home, I would wander along the trails I once rode along. They held up for years, easily walkable, and were great places to dream.

I’d climb up to sit on a particular moss covered rock. Not one that looked down on our farm but the other way – out towards the distance of forest and quiet. And it was there that I got the sense that I wasn’t going to stay in Virginia, that other mountains would call to me. And that they also would nurture me on my way.

And that was true.

It’s how many years later.

And how many mountains later: those Va. Appalachians, the Alps in Switzerland and Austria, the Rockies, Mt. Rainier, the Cascades and Olympics, Mt. Cook in New Zealand, Vt.’s Green Mountains, Maine’s Acadia, the Presidentials in NH. Each compelling in their own way.

Mt. Cook was challenging, I do admit. I came away, perhaps not dreamy, but stunned. It was memorable.

But what I haven’t mentioned is seasons.

Summer is easy. Winter? Which mountain, when….

Last winter it was so icy, I felt foolish even trying to tackle any trail, even with cleats. From January to late March, it was icy underfoot. My gravel driveway could become slippery the moment it was plowed.

Oh winter!

I’m hoping this one is better. Cold is okay. Snow is okay. Just : not ice on a slope, thank you. I don’t want to be dreaming inside.

I want the moss covered rock on my mountain.

It’s dark now in the early morning.

But it’s the end of October: after the sun rises – we can still go out! – Peaches