One Two Zero

(Unlocked.)

It has been 120 days since I started my year-long commitment to step outside every day.  That’s one-third of the journey completed.

(The fungi ladder.)

One of the unexpected benefits of this commitment is that I’ve found myself stepping outside of my comfort zone on a number of occasions.  Perhaps there is something about sticking with a commitment on a daily basis that makes a person braver.  Or maybe it’s a matter of growth, this wanting to reach and stretch.

(Radiant reds.  Winterberry.)

Boredom (or familiarity) may be a factor as well.  I walk the same paths most days.  It’s good to go somewhere different once in a while and/or do something novel.  Learn to ski.  Practice food photography.  Take on a challenge of some kind.  Find a new way to capture the familiar.

(A delicacy.)

The hardest part, so far, is the posting to the blog every day.  One hundred twenty days of blog posts with more to come.  Yikes.  Talk about a challenge, especially in terms of keeping it interesting.

Frankly my dears, I’m running out of things to blog about on the days where nothing really happens and my walks are limited to Breezy Acres.  If you have any suggestions, ideas, questions for me, photos you’d like to see, challenges — anything at all — please leave your ideas, etc., in the comments.  I’ll see what I can do.

Blindingly White

That was my first thought when I stepped out the door today.  The sky is white.  The ground is white.  The snow falling from the sky is white, and everything is being covered in a new layer of white.

(My boot print in the snow.)

Winter seems to have come to us in layers this year.  On the bottom it is wet and muddy.  The layer above that is snow.  Then ice.  Then snow again, being freshly laid today.  I can see the layers in my footprints, more so in some places than in others.  Every step is crunchy as my boots make their way through the icy layer.

(Layers.  Snow, grass, dried flowers, fungus, wood.)

This is where the posts get boring (to me).  I turn my outdoor adventures into weather reports.  I’m not sure what else to write about them.  It’s cold.  Snow falls.  I shiver.  My face gets numb.  My nose runs.  My eyes water if it’s windy.  And my legs work hard walking through the snow.

(Bright white on a holly bush.)

It’s 24ºF outside.  The radar is covered in blue to represent the snow.  Off the radar, outside, it’s difficult to see because of the heavy snowfall.

(Today’s view of the creek.)

But back in the woods, by the creek, it is calmer.  Quieter.  I could hear the snowflakes hitting the ground after making their way between the trees.  It’s a good place to rest, sheltered from the wind and the heavy snow.

Trees are sanctuaries.  Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.  They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

~ Hermann Hesse

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