It’s cold outside and the yarn hasn’t arrived yet

I understand when folks cannot stand to wait for their looms because they want it to arrive the second they ordered it.  Gosh, do I understand.  Because I must have opened and closed the door four times already this morning checking for my Waverly yarn samples and my railroad yarn.  I don’t even think it’s possible that either will arrive today.  On a rational level, I know that.  So when you are anxious for the arrival of your Mirrix order . . . well, we get it.  That doesn’t mean it will always arrive nearly as fast as you would like.  We just get it!  And we love you for being anxious too.

Yesterday, Rick (my husband) and I hiked up a local mountain, Pack Monadnock (2,290 feet).  It’s the highest point in our county. We hike this particular mountain in the winter because it has an access road (that one cannot drive up in the winter) that is currently packed with who knows how many feet of snow.  One does not require snowshoes because it’s really packed down.  And there are no cars and no people.  Sometimes (we used to do this with the kids all the time) we bring a sled with us and sled down.  Not one emergency room visit yet from this activity and we’ve been doing it for twelve years).  Just my crazy husband and me and one other runner and two guys walking their beautiful dog on this lovely early March day.  On the way up we were able to look to our East and see the Boston skyline (Boston is about an hour and a half drive from here . . . the visibility was quite good).  On top we gazed out at our beautiful landscape kind of shrouded in sunlight bouncing off all the snow giving it the kind of glow only winter can bring.

And of course I had neither my camera or my cellphone.  I am so used to looking out at this beauty that I forget to take pictures of it.  And since my theme this week has been inspiration it’s really sad that I didn’t bother to take inspiring pictures, if you not for me than for you, of this gorgeous landscape.

A few years ago when my mother was visiting she looked out our kitchen window at a view that is so dear and close and common to me that I feel like I wear inside of me and she asked in a kind of strident voice:  well I hope you appreciate this view!

I just kind of looked at her as if she had grown a third eye.  I live this view!  Why they heck do you think I live here?

But that does not excuse me from forgetting to record its constant changes.

It’s cold outside but I might just hang out in a sunbeam for a while before venturing out, with my camera, to capture these last days of brilliant winter.  And maybe this weekend I will hike Pack again, camera in hand.


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