dogs, snow, and sore hamstrings

It's been cold here, really cold. Mornings I wake to darkness and -11 degree air. I have to fight to get my door open so that i can let my truck warm up for 15 minutes before i leave for work. usually, that's not enough to get all the frost off the windshield, and the time spent outside clearing my view causes my nose hairs to freeze in to stiff reinforcements of my nasal passageway. Coming home consists of carrying loads of wood into the house to get the fire cracking--without it, the house carries a chill that can't be cut by central heating.

While there's a good bit of snow on the ground (upwards of 2.5 feet in some places), it's the cold that's been the biggest navigational juggernaut. Last week i heard of two houses with frozen pipes; one resulted in a collapsed roof. Our house presently has no water--we're not sure if the well is frozen or if one of the mechanisms that accesses the water has been affected.

My friend Elise was here a few weeks ago, and she commented on how much she missed Durangans. She's now moved to Ashland, where the weather has been a bit more mild, and the art a bit more edgy. "People in Durango might not have that spontaneous, edgy arty side, but they are just so good hearted and REAL!". I told her that it probably had something to do with the fact that we all have to get through the elements first and foremost:"there's little time to do art when we're all doing our best just to live in these conditions!" Later, when I helped her dig her car out of a 3 foot drift she backed into, she agreed.

Winter has really caused me to slow down. I'm not used to slowing down this much. Presently I'm housesitting on a mesa that uses a sketchy, steep dirt road as access. It's been snowing for two days, and I know my little truck may not have the power to cling to the icy surface of the road's hairpin switchback, so i've been here, stocking wood, doing yoga, walking the dogs, and listening to music. I haven't left the property since i got here. It felt, at first, somewhat like a forced retreat, but I'm noticing now that it's an opening...knowing that i can't go anywhere has allowed my mind to clear itself of tasks; instead, i see a little more deeply into my present state. I'm a little sad, a little anxious, and also very grateful. i feel okay being by myself.

i went for a walk down the hill with the dogs today. They leapt through 4 ft drifts as I waded waist high in the powder. i stopped to take a look at all the layers of snow: the nestled, individual crystals of the most recent storm, then a crusty layer of hoar frost, then a heavier, sponge-like section 4 or 5 inches thick, and finally, a dense, compacted snow from early on in the season. i pondered, for a moment, the accumulation of so much in such a short time, all the singular components involved in creating such a beautiful blanket for the earth. then i thought of avalanches, and snow melt floods, and muddy ground.

Maybe it's good to be sitting with things just as they are, because before long, they will all dissolve and transform. What i observe now may bring me closer to moving more gracefully and creatively with that transition.