The sun is shining. The wind has blown snow onto trees making them sparkle in the morning. You’d think someone had sprayed glitter everywhere. The penalty for such glamour? single digit temps.

The cold has put hats on my sturdiest roommates. Even the most coifed, hair-conscious have risked crushing a “doo” for a barrier against the bitter blade of outside air. I smiled when one finally acquiesced to socks with her high-heeled pumps with a sigh and a shake of her hatted head.

Me? It’s cold. I’ve shortened my woodland adventures. Shorter, but more frequent. After that first drying breath in, I focus on the singular goal for my walk. Hit the top of the next hill. Round the bend. Cut a new path, finding the hidden terrain under three feet of secret-keeping snow.

And because it all seems so unattainable in the cold, it’s all so much more desirable.

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