Walking in the Winter

I like to think that we have made a commitment to go for walks as a way of fighting off the temptation to go rotund, you know "tusker" like, elephantine, el gordo, bloato, what ever. In the summer, it is easier because of the warmth but also because the days are longer, oh, I guess it is day light.

In the winter, the warm old stove has a special draw and the winter wind has a way of making me cringe on first contact. I am told, and I now believe,  the key to winter walks is "to embrace" the winter as if is a wondrous time, a time to become one with the season. It is the only way.

We slap on our snowshoes, or some times just walking crampons, and hit the trails. I must say, we are never disappointed even though those first few steps can be discouraging. It is like "Why? Why must we do this? I remember the large bowl of ice cream of last night, and my aging mind reminds me that cream tends to attach itself to my not so glorious mid section. The six pack of youth is gone---I know, now it is another six pack.

Then, no sooner do we start and there is a lone eagle perusing the landscape, maybe a frosty rabbit and we are off down the trail among the maples, white pines and oaks, feeling warm and having our faces stung by the cold breeze.

Just 2 days ago, we took a friend, Dave for New York, down the rail berm all sauntering, marveling and blabbering of frigid winter days we spent together in the back country in the up state of New York some 43 years ago. Here like there, the low ground was filled with tracks of deer and turkeys. Half way up the one mile stretch we noticed a particularly well constructed, rather aesthetic bird house plopped in a fallen tree right tight up against the trail. It was a gift, I suspect, from a fellow traveler who in their summertime walks maybe wanted to see more birds. The trail is also a gift in our mind, so the house is simply an act of passing it on. Great idea. Maybe this winter we should make a few more bird houses.