YEAH!!!! The sun beams once again at sunset hit the prism wind-chime hanging on the porch so that the whole living room dances with bright rainbows for a few minutes before the sun disappears behind the western hill above us. It is like something from a fantasy land to sit on the sofa and have tiny luminous rainbows swirling their radiant colors across all the surfaces in the room. When I look out toward the wind-chime the brilliant miniature rainbows flash in my eyes dazzling with pure light. It is truly a fantastic sight.
Warm today, at least in the afternoon. It is almost 50 degrees Fahrenheit, so I decide I need to be outside and enjoy the (relative) warmth and bright sunshine. I am unabashedly afraid of falling on the ice again, so I am not going anywhere near the road. I use strap on grippy cleats to walk down the stairs to the snow covered yard. There I set up a lawn chair, and sit in it facing the sun as it slowly descends toward the western horizon (the hilltop across the hollow). I breath deeply, slowly, methodically, trying to loose myself in the breath. Close my eyes and feel the week radiant heat of the sinking yellow sun, listen to the birds, the creek, the dripping water, smell the wet earth with each inhalation. Peaceful. I sit there, half in and half out of reality, until a chill wind stirs the branches and breaks the spell. I head back inside as the silver sun silently slips out of sight. Sitting in a lawn chair in the snow is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.
Another thaw, warmer than freezing air, snow melting into the frozen ground. I sit on the porch bundled in a rocker, pink cast in a black sling, holding my wrist above the level of my heart. I am still in a state of mental shock and disbelief of what I did to myself. The broken bone radiates a constant feverish pain in my wrist, and the cast is an annoying irritation along my whole lower arm. And now I am worrying about all the radiation my I will be subject to in the next few weeks. Ugh!
I came outside to sit, breath the cold fresh air, clear my head, and try to relax; I am screaming and crying inside my head, heart pounding, pulse fast and throbbing. I wish this panic would dissipate, melt away like the snow. I notice the icicles along the porch roof, glistening in their winter wetness, shimmering in the blue grey half light of an overcast day, and dripping. The tiny water droplets sliding down the rippled icicle, growing at its point until gravity is stringer than cohesion and they fall away to join all the the other water molecules melting into slush on the ground. I zoom in, focus my attention onto the dripping icicles and space out on the rhythmic dripping as the drops hit the snow puddles below. I sit and rock and watch the ice melt for a long time, until I get cold. I think the sun is setting as the grey day has shifted to a darker grey and the temperature is starting to drop again. Calmer and cooler, I head back into the house to sit in front of the fire to warm up. All that water, dripping through my soul, washing the furies away.
Coming home from Hudson, on a hill overlooking the River and the escarpment of the Catskill Mountains. The mountains are a dark purple blue mass against a yellow sunset sky. Random billowing clouds of falling snow glow peach and gold in the sun beams emanating from behind the mountains where the sun set a few minutes before. The light bluish snow covered ground looks like lace through the black leafless trees on the peaks. Every time I am in a spot that looks out over these mountains, with them rising in the distance like a landscape dream, I think (and often say out loud) “That is where I live!” This view is awe inspiring, breath taking, fascinating, bewitching, sublime and serene. Ever present, ever changing, mountain moods, mountains move me. I am but a mere reflection of mountain spirit, my eye mirrors to the mountain goddess.
I did my own little snowshoe trek after work today, vaguely trying to get in shape for guiding snow shoe tours. Started off on the same trail as before, tromped across the mountain, looking uphill at every ski trail crossing so as not to get hammered. Looking downhill at the lodge, the town, the valley, and the mountains beyond. The whole sky and landscape mirror each other in a uniform dark blue grey. It’s late afternoon, and I think the sun has slipped below the western horizon, but the dim blue grey light seems unchanged in intensity as the day progressed. Heavy low clouds linger around the black mountaintops, loitering like bores teenagers, waiting for darkness to fall. I find and follow an unused bike trail that goes off through the woods, picking my way over unseen rocks and divots in the uneven snow covered ground, my snow shoes making long oval tracks in the fresh granular snow drifting through the woods from the snow guns. It is darker in the trees, through some tangled brambles I see a sparsely covered closed ski trail and head for that. Breaking from the tree cover, a purple grey sky greets me as the last light leaves the open sky settling in the west as a violent purple glow that will soon be swallowed by encroaching darkness. I head downhill and back to the lodge through the purple night.
After work I took a quick jaunt over to the Windham path. I had noticed the parking area a couple of years ago, but hadn’t yet checked out the path itself. A few weeks ago, my husband and I were in town at a store and saw that part of the path went through the field behind the shopping area. So today I decided to go see it for myself. It was a cold, grey, and blustery day, spitting snowflakes from the surrounding dark mountains like projectiles. The sun had set some time ago and darkness was slowly falling. The path winds over a field, through a small wooded patch, and then along a creek. I did not walk the whole two and a half miles because the temperature was dropping and the the weather was deteriorating rather quickly, both of which I wasn’t really prepared for. It is a good walking or dog walking trail, with a wide crushed stone path, gentle grades, and pastoral views. I do want to come back again and walk the whole thing. It could be a nice alternative to the walk I do up the road and back at my house, easy to do after work as it is just down the road from the ski slope. Just need to dress warmer and bring a head lamp!
The sun is down below the horizon, casting the western hills in a golden hue, yet the sky is still a bright pale blue like a hazy summer dream. There are a few happy puffy clouds floating by as if they had roamed out from a child’s drawing. Instead of white, these billowing clouds are shining yellow and gleaming gold mirroring and intensifying the burnished glow of the western hemisphere. The air itself seems to be filled with golden dust as if I could scoop out a handful and keep it near my heart for when I need a golden sunset to lighten a heavy mood. I feel glorious luxuriating in this brilliant gilded sunset. Its yellow clouds and pale blue sky softening quietly into darkness.