Winter Woods

Echo and I went further afield today than we've been in a long time, up behind the house and to the base of Devil's Nose. Actually, the "base" of Devil's Nose is down by the road at about 900 ft. elevation. The house is set into one slope at about 1200 or 1300 ft. The peak of the mountain is near 2300, and today Echo and I climbed and dipped along an old trail, out to a view overlooking a development in a valley to the southeast, and then hiked (she ran) up a steep slope to a clearing I don't remember seeing before. I stood in the clearing at the bottom of the last dip and looked up. The trail was at an end and it looked like the mountain filled the frame of the sky. From that point on, there was only an infinite up. We probably were only at about 1600 ft. of elevation, and that last 700 feet will have to wait for another day, another person. I like to walk, but I'm no mountain climber.

I love walking in these woods in the winter. It may look brown and grey and drab, but I revel that there are no bugs, no thickets, no leafy or thorny foliage to impede progress. No poison ivy! No sounds except the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs, the fluttering of small birds' wings as they flush out of brush piles and distant avian calls in the far-off sky. I hear my own huffing and puffing as I trudge up the steep slopes, the pounding of my exerting heartbeat in my ears, and the distant thumpeta-thump of Echo's four feet, as she races over ground and leaps over fallen logs, just out of my sight range.

It is cold enough that the heat generated by physical exertion feels good instead of sweaty and uncomfortable. Every deep breath is dry and cool and invigorating, and the smells of the damp winter woods are clean and astringent, rather than the fecund and green smells of summer.

The house feels stifflingly close and warm at first when we return, but gradually, as the layers of coat, hat, gloves, sweatshirt come off, it feels cozy and comforting.

Time for breakfast and chores, a good start on another good day.