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Last night to celebrate the Winter Solstice a new friend got a small group together to go snowshoeing up one of the cottonwood canyons (nope, I didn’t even notice which one). The moon was still only a waxing crescent, but with the snow reflecting light we didn’t even need headlamps.
Highlights:
1) Hiking alone for a portion and having a ‘Joe Versus the Volcano’ moment of, “Dear God, ... thank you for my life. I forgot how big... Thank you”. Then I shed some tears as I was grateful for my (recently deceased) sister’s life too.
2) Toasting the solstice with a tasty drink, chocolate coated figs from Spain, and a reading.
3) A desperate and nearly futile attempt to light matches/mini bon-fire to summon back the sun and light. What a debacle, it was meant to be poetic and magical.
1 comment:
Ah, bon hiver, my young friend. What an experience . . . snowshoeing and the solstice and fire and figs. I see nothing futile about such a time. How romantic. I hope there was a suitable fellow along. :)
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