Snowshoeing the morning after

Walking with dogs, I'm reminded 

it is the tenderhearted who know

how to turn this world

 toward the sun.

First snowshoe of the winter

Snow covered trees 

born on a hillside overnight

reach toward the pale December sun, 

like a prayer to the wrong god. 

Drop by drop, an existence trickles away 

until the next snowfall rushes across the land.

Northwest Wilderness Group

Shots from a second snowshoe hike the following day:

To understand the size and scope of Mt Hood, note the trees in the lower right hand corner of the second picture.

A View From Vista Ridge

You stand on a ridge looking east above the clouds. A sign, marking something about where you are, is there. But what does a sign know about where you are? 

Your skis lay at your feet. The clouds too. Icy volcanos, powerhouses for hundreds of thousands of years, lay dormant in the distance. You think how you, too, have become dormant. 

A wind blows across the ridge, intrudes on your thoughts. Your skis rustle on the ice next to you. You look out, toward Mt Jefferson, think how easy it was to shift into something else. The molten rock that once ran so hot beneath your feet, now cooled.

 Cooled, but not defunct. 

You step into your skis, point them downhill into the clouds.  

A dormant dream erupts once more.

   

Ho No!

What does it take to string lights on a 14 foot Christmas tree? 1 ladder, 1 trekking pole, 1 bottle of wine, 1 Monday Night Football game, 1 Blazer overtime, and 2 good attitudes!

Mo, after a little too much eggnog. ;-)

Hummers

Sitting in the garden,
the sun on my face,

I find that the world

and all that's in it

sits still too.

Thanksgiving

I received the blessing of the river,
the absolution from obligation and promise, 
as we walked alone - you and I -
along the water's edge 
on this Thanksgiving morning.

As you looked to the trees
for the owl we wouldn't see,
I thanked this good world 
for a moment, such a moment, 
when a symphony of birds 
played for the Great Blue Heron, the eagle, you,
and the little owl-
wherever she may be. 

A Dream Written

"Beginning August 1, 2013, I plan to live in a tent for 5-6 weeks. My goal is to hike the entire Oregon section (some 450 miles) of the Pacific Crest Trail. Sir Edmund Hillary, in his autobiography, wrote, "I have discovered that even the mediocre can have adventures and even the fearful can achieve." I want to see if he's right. What do you think? Interested in joining me for all or part of the trek? If so, get in touch. Let's see if we'd make good hiking partners. I won't take it personally if we don't and wouldn't want you to either. Let's talk."

I posted the above on Facebook today. I wanted to mark it here too - the day I first gave my dream its public legs on which to grow or fracture. 

 Wisdom is the first to sign up. With multiple training hikes under her belt, she's already earned her "trail name"- Trail Wisdom. 

On the other hand, Moesha, my 15 year old, lies down immediately whenever the pack is put on her. She's earned her trail name, too - Couch Potato! Mo's job will be to meet me at the resupply stops with a full supply of dog hugs and kisses.

I may wear out, but I won't rust out!