It’s been hot here in the Twin Cities.
Hot and humid.
Hot and humid and COVID.
So much so, that folks are divided on whether to wear masks or not, and what the actual distance of six feet looks like: whether distance is different in an enclosed space versus an open space, whether the current air filtration system is adequate to dispel the exhalations (the coronavirus soup), whether six feet is buffer enough when one is active, whether adding a drink or two to the mix makes for exponential risk… Continue reading
“We’ve got to have an old pair of your mother’s long boards…er…skis, somewhere here,” Magnhildr crouched and twisted as she snaked her arm through the stacks of children’s skis. “She was full grown when she came to foster with us, so they should work for you, as well.”
Hjordis stepped anxiously from one foot to the other, her troll’s tail twitching, as she peered past the snow giant’s thigh Continue reading
Winslow Homer 1893
Winter sun slides beneath the treeline, crosses the final lavender mile home with strips of deep purple, pale magenta. Neither warms this sub-zero trek. Progress marked by the flash of slender ski tips through new-fallen snow, my rasping breath through a strip of wool scarf. Continue reading
Outside my window is a dour study in black and gray and soggy white. No wind, no blue sky, even the evergreens are evergray. Twenty degrees below what we’re supposed to have in April, Continue reading
Deep winter, full moon, subtle rhythm of skis hissing through snow just-crystallized after a day of drifting flakes. No firm path, just skirting the deep wood where nobody with good sense enters after dark. Continue reading