i know it comes as no surprise to you that we watch the national geographic show ‘life below zero’. we’ve talked about it before and have even quoted snippets of wisdom from some of the show’s regulars.
in the next day or so it will drop to a “feels like” temperature of -52. that’s negative fifty-two. the “actual” temperatures won’t even reach the single digit negative numbers. now, that’s cold! and yet, each time the temperature is posted on the screen when we watch ‘life below zero’ it is usually some negative number (which doesn’t include the wind chill.) then, whichever arctic resident they are following will proceed to go miles to hunt or gather or fish, walking or driving snow machines in bitter winds, dragging behind them sleds upon which they will place their findings. i think we watch it because it is so far from our own lives. we love the vistas and can’t really imagine the life.
the whole town was closed today; the school system, the colleges, the city offices. and we haven’t even gotten to the life-below-zero temperatures yet. at lunchtime we took a walk and the snow was amazing. it was quiet and the lakefront was full of ice. our sedum plants looked like the lemonade ice pops i used to make The Girl and The Boy with the tupperware do-it-yourself-ice-pop-set i’m saving for the possibility of grandchildren. the snow is everywhere; there are enormous baby-sled piles on the sides of the roads. icicles abound. it’s beautiful. it’s a vision of real old-fashioned winter, a calendar entry on one of those the-year-in-wisconsin calendars, postcard images of this time of hibernation.
and so, in deference to the scope of mother nature’s ability to stop us in our tracks, we plan to limit our outdoor exposure the next few days. we look outside at all the snow that has already fallen and, expecting more, make sure we have enough basics in the fridge and the cupboards to last, in case we can’t get out. our little scion rocks, but unplowed roads and extreme cold are not necessarily its gig.
maybe we’ll take a little time and watch some more ‘life below zero’. by sheer comparison, we’ll realize how easy we have it. oh! and hey, maybe we’ll make some ice pops. or not.
read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY
i was standing in our old kitchen looking out the big window over the sink, reveling in the sunshine that is outside. light. it makes all the difference. all of a sudden i saw the fox running through the yard behind the yard behind us (yes, that would be two yards away)… gorgeous reddish brown, confident, its pace unhurried and elegant. 
a few minutes later, as i watched, it chose a spot under some low-hanging pine branches and curled up in the sun. that beautiful creature is still there, napping, soaking in the sun. what a reinforcement of what sunshine means to all of us living beings. revitalizing. hope-giving. a pure energy source.
seed pods that have dried on the vine. they remind me of the hike…so grateful…the stepping from one moment to the next. on these hikes, i am so aware of the fact that these moments are the only things we are sure of. one at a time. we revel in the air, the sun on our faces, our hands in each other’s, the sound of our boots breaking through snow and ice. we ponder on our own thoughts as we walk, and we talk about our ponderings. we are aware of the newness of life that will happen soon – when the sun warms the earth enough, when the rains nurture the seed, when the wind gently encourages new life, when the elements intend.
reverse threading 