So close to reverting to running shoes, but the trails…the trails. Still icy. Still slushy.
Yesterday’s walk was a Wyeth painting in tones of brown, ochre, white and black. Hashmarked branches on pen & ink trees. A subdued sun in a pale sky. Beautiful cacophonies of bohemian waxwings. Chickadees feeding out of my hand.
Life either waking up, or shutting down. The earliest days of spring.