Winter & Black Holes

This is not a photograph from the Hubble telescope, just a shot of an inlet on the nearby river before the recent snows fell. It captures, at least for me, some of what winter has come to feel like: blah. As I sit here at 6:25 am, there is nothing to suggest that the sun will show up for work today. The chill factor is 10F, and Ansel is wondering when I am going to get him out for our morning walk.

Everything is different in winter. I wake in the dark and dress in layers of warm cloths. I go downstairs and adjust the heat trying to find that magic level between comfort and bankruptcy (I tend toward the frugal end of the scale while Lady Linda goes for the sauna effect...but I digress).

Then I sit down to blog all over you. Sometimes I have an idea (although I never plan one in advance...and it shows...but I digress again), and sometimes I rummage through photos to get some inspiration. I went to the photos today, hence this sad drivel.

Winter plus the years have reduced the joy of "braving" the elements. I know it isn't all that bad, in fact this has been a mild winter. Still, I wake more slowly and get up feeling stiffer than I did a few years back when subfreezing temperatures were just another element with which to deal when paddling. I have, I fear, become soft. I like a short carry (of course you can help me) and warm water with sunshine on my back. Right now, I am squeezing all the optimism I can over the announcement of Canoecopia in Madison. More than the robin, it is a sure sign of warm weather to come.

I should like to make this rant as long as War and Peace in order to stay in this very supportive chair. I need, however, to get on some more layers, good boots, head coverings and ski gloves so Ansel can uncross all 4 legs.

Paddle safe...

DS