where to begin with the rest of my story of this snow? needless to say, i've been socked in, out here on firefly road where snowplows haven't come. but the power has miraculously stayed on this time around (i've been without it three times in the past six weeks, for eight hours at a stretch) and walter and i have beautiful places to explore.
five years ago, just after i had moved out here in the country from the little town i'd been in for ten years, developers began clearing an area far up the steep winding road that begins its sharpest ascent just past my house. roads were made, lots were cleared; it broke my heart, but not as much as the hearts of those who've lived here for dozens of years. this is a remote area, and firefly road, even more remote since this is a dead end route. no traffic, at all - and no cars whatsoever right now. i love it out here, even when i question just what the hell i am doing living alone, a single woman, out in the middle of what feels like wilderness. the housing market crashed just as the development up the way was completed; thankfully, not one single house has been built. roads are empty, little wooden bridges lead to nowhere in particular; a stone bridge leads, it seems, to the sky.
and so (i'm rambling, i see - you'll have to forgive me) yesterday, mid afternoon, walter and i set out to walk up that very steep road, one small slow step at a time (on my part), something that wasn't easy to do when the snow was actually higher than my cold weather boots. snow shoes would have been lovely; i haven't any, should perhaps purchase some. i love the photograph below for the simple fact that it shows my fairly straight, deep path, and walter's zig zig one that crossed my own steps over and over (and over) again. poor walter - the snow was halfway up his legs, and after two hours, he began to chew at snow that had gathered in clumps on his feet, his stomach, his legs. it was an absolutely glorious time, one that seemed suspended for a couple of hours, while we wandered quietly way up there in the untouched snow. the weight of my world, which has seemed especially heavy of late, was lifted from these bundled shoulders of mine. i haven't wanted to share any self portraits for the past few months, i've felt so weathered and wrinkled and worried and old; but i'm going to share this one of me in that wide open space, taking a photograph for myself, of myself, to document this place in that sweet, slowed-down time. i look into the camera, flecks of snow on my brow, to show myself some tender love. hello there, self. hello. down the mountain we went from there, slowly so slowly, tired and wet and flushed all rosy from the cold. i sat on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon and evening with a work tray in my lap, stitching quietly away, deeply inspired by the beauty that has draped itself around me. and this morning, the sun is out, full force, which makes every thing - each branch, each print in the snow - that much more breathtaking in its stark bright clarity. such light! such light. it is shining through the little snowy things i continue working on today.