Stopping By The Woods

    One of the evils of city living is that it is hard to leave.  Even when traffic and time are not impediments, everything beyond the borders of streets and houses seems far away.  Thus, I go to the country much less than I mean to.
    But Sunday was sunny and cold and I knew there was snow galore in the mountains, so Rob and I went to the Wind River area of hills in Washington to cross country ski for me, and snowshoe for him.

Although the traffic tie ups around Mt. Hood had been making the news, there were very few visitors to this land of gentle hills that border the Indian Heaven wilderness area.  Perhaps that was because the road was icy and curvy the last ten miles.

    Skiing in the sun through the woods is about as close to bliss as I can get.

Maybe it is because I get so light starved in the winter, or go through the day, tense with the damp chill of this rainy climate, but the chance to synchronize my arms and legs in big graceful strides and the soft shush of each step almost puts me to sleep with calm.  The right music on the Ipod didn’t hurt my mood either