The sun was bright and the snow had begun to melt.
The dog was leaping with ecstatic joy.
A snowmobile track left a packed path to the woods, making our way less work.
It was a fantastic day for snowshoeing through the woods. Rabbit tracks hopped from the trees, looking as though they were staining the snow with the soft blue shadows from the trees. Dripping water kept time with the songs of the chickadee. Droplets clung to branches, waiting to unlock the prisms of the sun.
I pee by the path and go to kick some snow over it with my snowshoe. It catches the snow and digs in, throwing me off-balance and onto my back. Laughing I look up. My eyes catch two white crescents a thousand feet above. So high in the air and so gloriously pure, two seagulls are circling near Baby’s Breath clouds. I lay on my back watching, and show them to Paula, who in turn sees more. I love it that falling down became a door opening to something wonderful above.
We hike on, crossing roads and recounting other times we had been this way on skis.
Occasionally we stop to catch our breath or to sip water.
Finn never stops, of course.
Every breath is fresh, crisp.