Two burly days, heaved with heat, came out of nowhere and broke the back of winter. From knee-deep to bare ground over a handful of following days, the landscape collapsed in a time lapse of melting snow.
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I unfastened my seatbelt, switched my phone off airplane mode and texted him, We’ve just landed!
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I remember this day so well. We’d taken a hike down by the river, the boys and I.
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The river was gentle now, and calm, skimming over rocks, burbling between boulders, taking its wandering time
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I didn’t think there was time. The afternoon was already closing in and passing by, the weekend waning fast.
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We sliced a section right out of the middle of life, and escaped to autumn in the mountains of northwest Montana, my original home.
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The relative quiet of the Ojai valley was so welcome after the thrumming energy of LA.
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Life is interesting, isn’t it? How timing and events, curious circumstances and appointments unaware, can come together in a beautiful chronology that you couldn’t have planned if you’d tried?
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I knew they’d be coming soon. They’re always first to bloom, the first to crack from winter’s shell.
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The shadows of pines notched the edge of the meadow; the expanse of snow, like a bowl in its middle, was creamy-white in the moonlight.
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It’s true. January might be my favorite month (ah, yes, until October comes…)
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