Falling in to it

The Jewish New Year is right around the corner of this weekend and it feels like Fall outside. When did it go from Labor Day weekend to Fall? When did I go from planning a wedding to being a newlywed? I told someone the other day I left my job on the 15th of September because August 15th sounded too far away, but it was over a month ago that I left and all the newness came in to my life. Wow.
Soon it will be October and I still won't have a job. When Matt would mention October when we were in Hawaii I would panic a little bit inside and think how scary it was to think about October coming and me not being employed. Now it is almost here, and I'm okay. Things are happening, pieces are moving and we're going to be just fine.
Going to NH this weekend will make Fall feel even more present in my world. To see the colors on the trees and feel the cold air on my skin in the mornings and evenings, and probably throughout the day will feel good.
Seasons changing always rejuvinates me, even the first snow of the year. My sinuses don't like it, but I love stepping outside and thinking the air has changed, that the time has shifted in to a new season.
It helps to deal with change if you embrace the cycles that come with it and enjoy and relish in all they bring.
For me Fall brings out sweatshirts and sweaters and brown boots. I can drink tea at night to relax and be comfortable with the window open and a fleece blanket on me. Fall means oranges and reds and all the warm full of life colors that I enjoy. I'll want to have a glass of wine with dinner and embrace the ciders, pumpkins and warm drinks that everyone will be selling.
I'm looking forward to running in the park as the season changes and just as I embraced the arrival of the cherry blossoms and Spring I'll marvel at the leaves changing and the air crisping. I love crispy air, ooh and crispy apples.

Musing on Breezes

I forgot my umbrella this morning, and then it didn't even matter. Every time I walked outside the sky was clearing a bit and the sun was poking through. I walked to the gym in my shorts and tank top with no jacket- it felt like spring/summer finally since I didn't have any place to put my phone or keys.
I love evenings like tonight's. Feeling the breeze through the open bedroom windows, walking to get dinner in pajamas that don't look like it because it is spring and you can wear lighter and softer things that go either way. Everyone was walking dogs, or meeting friends, people are more friendly, saying hello, giving their neighbor a smile.
I felt light and happy being outside in the early evening. The sun was starting to set, and the wind was picking up. I love the feel of a spring or summer breeze. As I laid in bed last night tossing and turning I tried to focus on how great it felt to be under just a sheet with the night wind blowing over me. I thought to myself that it might be one of my favorite feelings, but then my turning mind thought of many more feelings that could be favorites and I lost the moment. I got it back again tonight, walking down my block. It came back, the lightness, happiness, fulfillment and the safety in cycles, in this time of year returning again.

Shared Life

I think one of the many reasons I feel in love with Matt and wanted to share my life with him was how different his upbringing was and how that had given him many different hobbies, interests and experiences. I wanted someone who would balance me, but who had the same values and morals. One thing that has always been evidently the same is our commitment to family and the importance it holds in shaping our lives.
One of the differences has been our exposure to outdoor activity. I grew up playing outside until I was either cold, it was too dark, or I got hungry. Vacations were camping, or on a lake with swimming, canoeing or kayaking. Weekends were often spent hiking in good weather, xc skiing in winter and a combination of biking, running and swimming in summer, and although I never really took to organized sports, I modeled exercise after my parents and started running on my own early in high school.
As important as differences were to me, they are always challenging to balance as you build a life together. When I would take Matt home with me to NH I'd want to run in the mornings, xc ski if the conditions were right and take the opportunity to hike if that's what my parents had planned. This was a challenge for Matt. He didn't like XC skiing, he wasn't a huge fan of hiking and wasn't interested in running. Of course he tried it all with me, but it just wasn't for him.
I knew that the longer we were together, and exposed each other to the lifestyles we were used to, we would each adapt and figure out the balance that worked for us. I'm definitely a country girl, but I've taken to city living and know I'll always be near one, largely due to Matt's influence. I grew up having home cooked meals and didn't really know anything different until Matt came in to my life and I started to appreciate eating out more, maybe a bit too much lately...
For Matt, he's grown to enjoy getting out doors and taking in what nature has to offer. He hikes with us now, has bushwhacked through local woods, and is running a 5K with me in two weeks. I know that if I want to go for a walk on the country roads I grew up on, he’ll happily join and take in the beauty with me. He sees now why hiking, as grueling as it can be, is so rewarding- it is all about the view.
This morning as we came in from a run in the park, I laughed a faux evil laugh and said, "I knew with enough exposure I'd turn you in to an outdoorsman." I of course am not out to change who Matt is. Although, it is nice when something you enjoy and cherish in your life is taken on and shared with the person you've tied your life to. When it activity based, you can partake in it together. I'm learning as we enter this life building thing together, that although differences can create a layered, fun and new experience for you, there are some things that a partner needs to enjoy too, and I'm glad that Matt is starting to share my love of experiencing a lot of life outdoors.

Snow Covered Trees

The snow is light and fluffy, but about knee deep, the tracks come easily, yet up hill is a work out like none other. The trees are still covered in snow in here, the wind not yet reaching into the forest to force the snow down, making you feel like it is snowing all over again. I can see closed buds, still reaching towards the sun, preparing for Spring already.
Deer tracks come in to the trail and I follow them, thinking of Mom's story of seeing one bound across the trail, the only one of her three co-skiers to see him run across their path, "Our eyes were down."
The last time we were out here we called it Deer Highway, seeing countless tracks and places where they had laid down, spent a night, weary from the winter, dreaming of Spring.
We reach the end of our trail, for the second time, a rock Mom and Dad used to walk to, marking Ye Olde Canterbury Road. They used to travel this on horse back, I think each time.
"It's so beautiful out here."
"Mmhmm."
"Daddy would have loved this, it's so weird that he's not here."
"I was thinking about the last time we were all out here and we skied up to the clearing and were talking about a wedding, about what kind of flowers I might have."
"Really?"
"And now he's just gone." Now that I'm actually planning a wedding, I think.
We push off with our poles and fly back over our now well tracked trail, all down hill from here.
A winter wonderland.

Snow Day

It was snowing this morning when I woke up. I walked in to the bathroom and exclaimed, "Oh man, it's snowing!" I climbed over Matt back in to bed and pulled the blinds up. I got back in to the our still warm bed, under our 3 blankets and lay on my side watching the white flakes come down.
I love watching the snow fall, as cold as I know it is outside it makes me feel warm. We walked out to get breakfast, the air was cold, but I felt comfortable in my down and fleece. I felt like I was a part of winter, real winter, with snow and cold air and covered bodies walking the streets around me.
Later it turned slushier and browner, but the image of it coming down outside my bedroom window remained with me, and I hope for many more mornings much the same.

Before and After- Pumpkin Version

Playing with Photoshop

A little bit of this, and a little bit of that

This year was so much better than last. I was in the moment, I was enjoying each moment, I was loving it for me and for Dad like I wanted. Friday, our last full day, it was rainy most of the morning and when the sun finally popped out around 2 I hurried into my bathing suit and down to the dock for sunning. I wanted those last few rays to warm my skin, I wanted to be able to hold the feeling, the warmth and color on me for weeks after I'd left.
There was a family with an infant playing in the water and as I lay, eyes closed and face up I smiled and laughed along with them. It was just the four of us and it was great. The sun started to move behind the trees surrounding the dock and I kept moving my lounge chair further and further to the edge of the dock to keep the sun on me. At one point, when there was no one there, I just stood on the furtherest edge and basked in the light. I was craving it and didn't want to give in and head back up to the cabin. When it finally moved well beyond where I could reach it, I turned and gazed out at the lake. The sun was still sparkling magically on the eerily calm water and I thought, "Why don't I just get in the kayak?" So I did. It was a total Dad move. Decide you want to get out there and just go. Normally I may have just paddled to the middle of our part of the lake and lounged, but instead I kept paddling, even beyond the edge of Great Island that marked our entrance to the rest of the lake. I saw Sunset Rock in front of me on another Island, a place we'd stopped at during many family kayaking trips. I hadn't gone all last year, and now was the perfect time.
I felt great as I glided through the water. I let the sadness I had been feeling all week flow through me and pass over me and release. My arms, my shoulders, my body were in rhythm and I hummed the song that Dad would always reference as he explained the best speed of your paddles, "A little bit of this, a little bit of that, a little bit of this, a little bit of that."
As I reached the rock, I saw there was a young girl laying on a blanket reading near the water. Someone like me, I thought. Looking for somewhere to get away and just be.
As I glided to a stop and pulled the kayak up onto the rocky edge I realized I hadn't brought a towel, or anything to lean on, or lay on. Oh well. I immediately jumped into the clean, clear water and let myself slip into the cool comfort I feel when being underwater. I came up for air and swam a little bit further out before coming back and climbing onto the rock hot with the days sun.
I leaned back on my hands, closed my eyes and tilted my head up. It felt great to just sit there and be bathed in late day sun. I tried mediating, just breathing deeply and clearing my mind. I was able to for a bit, and then more people started to gather on the popular rock. I thought, if I had brought a towel I probably would have stayed for hours.
I climbed back into the kayak and began paddling back towards the tip of Great Island and then back. As I neared the Island, I slowed down my stroke debating whether to stop at some other rocks I had seen. I heard a splashing to my left and looked over as a loon emerged from the water about a paddles length away from me. I was frozen for a second as I looked at the large black and white bird and his, or her, red eye fixed on me. Loons are beautiful creatures, and large when you're as close to them as I was. I wish I didn't get scared and paddle a bit more quickly away, but I did and as I turned to look at the bird again I saw him, or her, rise a little ways out of the water and flap his, or her, wings. Territorial, I thought. Good thing I paddled away.
As I made my way back to the cabin, I felt happy and proud. I had gone into the week wanting to be able to let myself just take in and enjoy where I was, do things for Dad, and myself. And I had, and this kayak gave me a renewed since of, I'm okay. And, after a week of being in a small house with lots of people coming in and out it was nice to have some alone time too, although I didn't feel totally alone.


Too see them all

Friday

The mid-summer cool breeze washed over me as I walked across 91st and neared home.
I felt it stir around me, and looking up 91st towards Park noticed the full green trees that shaded the street, the quite people walking down it, how the cars were a part of the street darkened by the leaf cover, and everything just kind of fell silent for a moment. I can feel it now coming in the open windows. It feels like home.

Symbiotic

The ants crawl around the buds as the petals press hard against their green skins. Eager for release, to let their thin layers explode into the June air. Looking towards the sun, their blossoms tilted up even as they lay against the brick walk way, brought down by the rain and the weight of their petals. Each so delicate, so soft, yet together heavy with beauty. The ants help in the process, pick away at the outer shell, enabling, allowing, the pressure relieved. They have a symbiotic relationship. The ants help the peonies bloom, the peonies give the ants a livelihood, a meal, a purpose. When you bring them inside, the ants follow. "There are ants all over the counter now." I observe as my Mom comes in to admire the arrangement. "Yeah, I find they don't last long in the house." They're not house ants, they're peony ants.
As I drive back to New York, one climbs onto my hand. The peony buds I've taken have carried him in. I flick him off and watch as he climbs along the dashboard. Lost. I want him to find the peonies I've brought. He won't.
I open the window, hoping he'll find his way outside. I'm driving fast, but maybe he'd survive the wind. He approaches the open window and gets low against the sill. I watch as he lifts just his head up, his antenna expanded, weighing his options, taking in the change in scenery. He lays for a while, letting the wind speed over him, figuring out his next move, the peonies a distant memory. Now, all he knows is getting back to the green he sees outside. I let him sit like that, wanting him to find his own way, not wanting to intrude too much, feeling guilty that it may indeed kill him. I don't dislike this ant, because he's a peony ant, he's part of the beauty of the flowers. He makes his way closer. I give him a little shove, finally. I need to put the window up, my ears are popping from the pressure. He sneaks into the space between the lowered window and the door, and then begins to climb back out and that's when the air takes him. I see him cling for a moment to the rearview mirror and then he's gone. I roll the window up and look at the peony buds in their vase next to me, they're starting to bloom.

Giving

Back in the day, aka freshman year of college, I was a pretty hardcore "protester". I was in all the "Peace" related groups like "Peace Works". I hung out with people who smelled like dirt, sweat and vegetarian soups. I sewed patches into jeans, and wore screen printed t shirts with fists, and groups of smaller fish eating the bigger fish. I really believed that we could make a difference, we would make a difference, that the IMF and World Bank would topple with our voices. I also enjoyed being around people who were so passionate about what they were fighting for, who wanted to plant trees, tend to community gardens, raise awareness, sign petitions and hand deliver them. I joined MassPIRG and started sending in video petitions to BP to stop the drilling in Alaska, recycled Post Cards to support Tree Farms. I couldn't afford to give money, so I gave time and energy. I rode on a school Bus to DC and stayed in the lobby of a church to protest the IMF and World Bank meetings. I saw people sprayed with tear gas, and throw themselves in front of traffic to get their message heard. It was all very exciting, passion inducing and thrilling at the time. I look back on the pictures I took and think, I did that?
I started to get disillusioned as time passed and I didn't feel any differences had been made. Instead of getting heard for what we were in DC to stop, we were heard for the chaos a select few had caused. Unruly kids cause a ruckus and getting themselves imprisoned, instead of passionate young adults who are rising up to make change where it matters. And the people I had surrounded myself with would judge me for not becoming vegan, not living in their commune, not buying in to everything they were espousing. Sure I wanted our environment to be protected, I wanted to help stop the increasing poverty line, I wanted to fight for a lot, but I knew I couldn't, I knew I had to pick what really mattered to me. To them, everything mattered and you had to put your all into it all. That wasn't what I wanted, and wasn't this all about individual choice and having the freedom to make that choice and live by it? Why was I different because I wanted to drink milk and live in a comfortable room? Oh, and in addition, I did have to attend school. It suddenly became more about the image of being passionate for causes, then about actually doing productive work to make a difference.
I stayed with MassPIRG because there I felt like I was being productive, I could send in the petition and see that the bill hadn't passed, I could watch the people going into grocery stores donating their money so we could buy formula and diapers for Worcester's poorest.
Overtime that interest faded too, and I focused on graduating, writing a thesis and enjoying my last year with all the friends I'd found at school. I'm still passionate about protecting our environment, that was always the cause that interested me the most, but anytime I would try to put energy into it I got confused. There were so many organizations, so many people who needed the time and money to protect the oceans, the endangered species, the trees, the air, the soil. I can still see myself now, walking through a room of environmental organizations my head spinning with all the campaigns, the needs, the endangered. Who did I give to if I couldn't give to everyone? I just didn't give. I avoided it. I walked out of those fairs with lots of pamphlets but not decisions. Instead I signed up for a credit card that would give back to environmental organizations with every purchase I made. It was easy, I could feel good about it. It still wasn't enough though.
When One.org started gaining momentum I was excited, it was an idea I could get behind- except not what I was the most passionate about. Then I heard about Earthshare.org through BzzAgent. Here I can give and know that my money could be helping everyone. I don't have to pick and choose, I can just give.
And they have some great ways to give. You can check out their Market Place . I'm probably going to buy the Dutch Tulips, its the best way to raise money- give the people something they can see, something they would probably want anyway and let them give back.

To make this long story short- It feels good to find a way for me to finally get involved and give back without the group pressures, the unease of knowing if its the "right" organization, or the worry of picking and choosing.
So, are you going to give? Do you give? How? What do you think about Earth Share?

Bedroom Window

At night the buildings look like a stage backdrop. The light of the city mixed with moon light filtered by darkness falls just so that they're muted and almost look fake. Some lights stay on well into the night, but not so many that it over exposes the picture and causes them to stick out, more real than they are. The world is my stage, I suppose. And, if I'm continuing down that path is the bedroom where the main action takes place? Its where I found myself lately doing my best thinking. Just laying in my bed, staring out into the night, letting the thoughts melt into me, around me, out of me.

When I lay flat against the bed, my head hilted towards the window I can look up through the last fire escape and see the bursts of blue sky, bright against the rusty green of metal. A fitting juxtaposition to city and nature. I find my body yearns for the green of grass, ongoing neverending grass, and the blue of sky, unbroken big country skies, the comforts that natural setttings provide. Yet I feel at home in this city, THE city. Maybe the mixture is just right here, enough vibrance and ongoing "stuff" to keep me statisfied and the bursts of nature and sky just outside my bedroom window give me comfort and cleaner air to breathe. The gardens behind our apartment are no blooming with life and spring time greens. The trees cover most of the outdoor living spaces and if we open the windows at night wind chimes lull us to sleep, masking any city noises. Maybe it is just the right blend. As I lay and look out I see a flicker of black wing and beak against the green tree, I just miss it in my vision as I move fully into unobstructed view to catch it.

With the window open last weekend I could hear voices mixing together with music, a party in a back yard patio. What a perfect way to spend an early June night, sitting together with buildings rising above you and trees blocking the views from windows. Good food, good drinks and most of all good company. Maybe I could live here into my adult years, although a patio would have to be part of the deal.

A balloon floats into the sky above, lost from a child's grip.

From the Porch

The blue of sky pops behind the bright green of the pine tree needles. The tree that has broken, 2 pieces have fallen, and other smaller ones behind it. Two years ago we burned the bigger pieces at Thanksgiving, starting the fire with a broom doused in gasoline. Waving around the fire stick to get the wet wood to burn. It shot up in a ball of flame and we all stepped back, mouths open, excited.

It poured just minutes earlier, thunder rolling through the sky, bringing billowy white clouds that would open to brilliant blues, the sun shinning down on the green grass. It needs mowing Dad would say. It was grey and cold the day we ceremoniously unwrapped his gravestone. The pink granite bright against the cloud covered sky. The rain started to sputter, a misty gloom. People told Sammy and me we did a good job unwrapping the stone. Maybe they meant we did a good job staying strong. I wanted to stand there and sob, there were too many eyes on me. The days can go by so quickly when you’re not recognizing each one as another passing, but stopping to say this has been almost a year brings you straight back to the reality of grief, of longing, of missing, of losing.

Yellow grasses flutter with the green as the wind picks up, gold and green, sparkling in the sun before a cloud covers it. I rock and watch the sky, the trees, the bushes, and the grass, notice the bright white of the porch railing and the now dry porch boards.

Marsh

We walked in on the frozen stream, each step risking the breaking ice, but caring little. My mind was focused somewhere far beyond the crackling ice, and then on the vast openness before me. My eyes were quickly drawn to the barren tree protruding from the marsh. It stood alone, a smaller tree next to it, a child to a parent. It stood so tall and bare in this vast open space. I turned, watching mom walk into the marsh, towards the center, her blue jacket standing out above the golden grasses that covered the swamp, the snow not yet deep enough to cover them. The gold grass fluttered in the wind as mom crossed the marsh. I followed.

I stood in the middle, moved by the open world around me, watching the movement of the grass, watching the stomping steps Mom took, I closed my eyes, my body spinning or maybe just my mind. I felt Dad, I wanted Dad, it doesn't matter which one it is or was, he was there. My eyes were drawn down to the gold, up to the blue empty sky, I looked for Dad. Where are you? The wind slowed down and passed me softly. I followed my Mom's steps, stomping where she had. Watching the wind move the tall pines surrounding the marsh, watching Mom through piney branches of a bare tree. I turned back to the large tree in the center, my eyes fixed again. Why was it standing out so strongly when moments early and in moments again I would be surrounded by larger and older trees?

Mom sat on a branch once out of the swamp. "The pain is too much sometimes." We both cry, her more visibly than me. "But it’s too cold to sit here anymore."

Cloudy Day

I’ve been drawn to the sky, spending a lot of time pondering the clouds. For the past month I’ve headed west on the Pike towards Newton each Thursday. There’s a point on this route where you inevitably hit traffic and have to stop. It must be on top of a slight incline because this past month I’ve noticed how much sky I can see. No sky scrappers or trees blocking my view, just miles of sky filled with clouds. Each week the clouds are different and beautiful. Normally they are what are blocking the sun, but lately for me that’s been okay.
I spend many minutes gazing up at them as I sit on the road, only averting my eyes to inch my car forward in traffic. I don’t mind the delay, it gives me time to look at the clouds. When the sun is setting within them they turn purples, blues, reds, oranges, yellows and grays. When there is a bright blue sky they are often rounded, soft and pure white. When its been stormy they often dot the sky like polka dots, and sometimes when its windy they are wispy and nearly non-existent. I’ve never thought before how beautiful and vast clouds are.
I don’t remember ever being this drawn to the sky, or clouds. Ever. Yet, each day I find myself looking up, excited when I find clouds, awed as I stare. They are so beautiful, so different, so ever changing.
I often wonder if he is behind them, causing this enhance beauty, giving me something to look up to and find.
Some may say, my attraction is symbolic of my state of mind, “my head is in the clouds“. I feel like now I’m finally out of the fog that surrounded me this spring and summer. I’m feeling more grounded, able to remember more, focus better. And now, that I’m out of my “cloud” I’m more drawn to them then ever in my life.
With the changing of the clocks, it will be dark as I drive to Newton each Thursday. Luckily, I sit next to a large window everyday. Although my view is mostly a crane and the Pru, I can still gaze at the clouds of that day. I look forward to going outside each day and seeing the cloud formations, the colors they’ll hold, the shapes they’ll take and how they’ll change throughout the day. Maybe my head is in the clouds, but they are giving me something to look forward to, inspiration for the photography below and place to put a lot of my wandering thoughts.

When the Moon

You can be driving down the highway, thinking of dinner, of what you've made with certain ingredients before and then the moon- enormous, perfectly round, lit up, appears in front of you- mouth gaping big. Reminding you of everything that exists beyond your reach.

Sometimes you need a shock that wakes you up from your dailyness, causes you to drive home without realizing you've gotten there, because all you can do is gape at the moon.

Rainy Greens

Everyone keeps complaining about the rain. I have to agree on some levels- the sun would be nice now, I'm sure the sun would help me out.

Yet, I keep looking around at all the green that's thrived in the last week of this rain. The trees are much more lush, the yet to blossom flowers growing faster, the grass calling to my bare feet. I think all the green looks great with all this rain. I pull onto my block and think, I'm so happy to live here. All the trees surrounding the pavement are beautiful and soften it and make it nice to come home to.

So while I'll rejoice with the rest of the community when the sun does come back, I'm content to sit inside and look out at how beautiful this spring is becoming and how pretty the rain glistens on the leaves and buds.

Where I Come From

The snow was a steady stream of white and I so wanted to be able to capture it. The constant motion of falling flakes making everything seem still and calm. I knew the camera wouldn't be able to capture that, but I also knew I'd want to capture the newly snow covered items. I love being from a place where the snow draws you outdoors instead of forcing you to stay inside, or I guess I should say I love being from a family where the snow means time to head outside to play.

My jacket was too big for me, completely covering my hands, which made it easy to hold my camera and keep it tucked away in the sleeves of the jacket ready to pop out at the prime photo opportunity.

The landscape around the house where I grew up is primarily farm land, which peaks into lush greens in the summer. I tend to notice it more when its snow covered. The white vastness of fields untouched by anything but the flakes. However, as you look around at the items bordering these fields you'll find items that have been touched, by humans and time. The parking of a car next to a field, the sapping of a tree in a graveyard, the bending of wire and wood over time. These to me represent where I've grown up, where I'm from. They are the markers of time, the telling of a story, the signs of how people have moved and shaped the area.

The farm in the middle is the center of it all, what the fields have been built for, who the graveyard was created for, what has drawn the people that built a bench and parked a car. Its all those scribbled in pieces of the picture that make up where I'm from.

Roses

They are classic, they are romantic, they are beautifully simple, and yet many women argue that they are too ordinary, too typical and claim to want "special" flowers. I too have been this woman, "Don't give me roses, I want something different!"
Roses have seemed to surround me lately, which is what has made me re-think my position on them.
I got them from a dear friend for my birthday (yellow, pink and white) and it was lovely to have them in the house. Then, the roommates BF dropped them off for her to get when she returned from a trip- they were purple- and lovely and romantic.
Seeing these made me think of the time the Boy surprised me with a dozen purple roses. I was surprised and excited and it may have come off as not as happy as he'd hoped. Regardless- I was. Unfortunately he gave them to me on a day I was traveling and I left them in the car accidentally and they of course died. I've always regretted that. Not only because I made him feel like I didn't like/want them, but because they were gorgeous flowers and I let them die without even getting to appreciate them!
Seeing the purple roses really made me want then again. Seeing the purple roses made me realize, roses are gorgeous, and a lovely lovely gift to receive. They still aren't my favorite flower, but I'll happily accept, appreciate and brag about getting them any day.

Winter

I was in the woods this weekend, xc skiing. Winter is just as beautiful as Summer, I decided. Picture yourself, on soft fresh powder gliding through a pine forest, each tree dotted with fresh white snow, a bright blue sky beyond it and soft bright sunlight streaming through the branches. That is why I need New England seasons, because each one gives you a change to stop and reflect on the beauty that surrounds you, us, everyday. Sure its a pain in the ass to live in a city like Boston during the winter months, especially when it snows an the city is inept at removing it. But god, when you're out in the wilderness skiing across a frozen pond covered in soft white snow the sun light warming your back and the bright blue sky in front of you- how could you not love it?