Home tree

Yesterday dawned bright and cold.

It was one of those days that is so cold that all moisture leaves the air and snow and you are left with a million brilliantly glittering cold diamonds reflecting back into your eyes.

The girls and I try to take the approach that there is no such thing as bad weather.  No matter how cold, we try to get out and enjoy it.

It’s also my increasingly firm mantra for life this year.

We went snowshoeing along the river.

The girls are always seeking, when we hike through the woods, for that one perfect tree.

The tree that will feel like “home,” where we will stop for a while and they will play under its branches.

No matter our path, we always seem to find it eventually, as long as we keep going in spite of cold.

The forest knows the secrets we need to learn, the life amid cold, the perfect home tree, just ahead.

“The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.”

-John Muir