you read something, a post or a book, that you really like, but sometimes i read something that, stirs in me, a wish; that i could write like that. Rachel you did that just now (the waxing moon). And i am reading a book by Karen Conolly.
How i wish.
But all i can do is just write like me :)
Today Don and i went skidoing. Now what kind of opening line is that? But then the trail was first very rough too, there really is not enough snow here. I am bounced around badly. I do wear all the right gear. But what is the right gear? Today i wear a fancy Yamaha face mask under my scarf, toque and hood. I find soon that it just becomes very snotty, underneath. And eventually my left cheek gets very cold with that trapped moisture. My right hand gets cold from holding the throttle. I am wearing, fleece gloves, army liners and bison mittens. And my right foot gets cold.
On our way back, i know at one point; from now on it's just surviving, knowing i will be home in a half hour. I hunker into myself as good as i can, while moving the specific body parts, that are on the verge of freezing up. I don't enjoy the scenery anymore, just focusing on staying warm and getting home. Which still is somehow enjoyable, haha, how you wonder. See writing is so hard, how do i explain? But maybe you know the feeling. The skidoo is kind of carrying me, as when as a child i fell asleep during an event and my dad lifts me up and carries me home, I am sooo tired, but i know soon my dad will put me in my own bed, in the meanwhile i am safe in his arms....
Beside all that, we have a very good adventure, following the winding Mendenhall river, which brings you nowhere really, as it loops back onto it self a thousand times.
But the sliding through this open tunnel of snow is dreamlike.
Don likes to get onto the meadows on the other side, but there are no tracks set yet by anyone. I know of a way, but he doesn't ask me :)
We find a beautiful levee, that we explore a bit by walking. It's compared to most levees beside the river, very open, with beautiful big and very tall spruce trees.
We do find a passage for the skidoos, but end up in a meadow surrounded by thick willow. But it's good enough, what do they say? (which i never like actually) It's the journey that counts, not the destination. Well you know i am getting cold, so i am happy with this journey without destination. Happy to turn back.
My cheeks still glow. (or is that the shimmering body gel, i got for Christmas)