Bright winter sunlight like a pitcher of lemonade spread across the morning sky. Today was one of those days where each moment was saturated with goodness. A long nap with Bean curled in the nook of my arm, my nose pressed into the softness of his hair. Pad thai at the local noodle shop with painted paper umbrellas hanging from the ceiling and pink plastic chopsticks. A hike up a small mountain in late afternoon. The land around rubbed flat ages ago by a glacier. Tall black pine silhouettes and the sun setting into a ragged cloud line, like someone’s white laundry hung out to dry after being washed with a lone red sock.
We passed two old men sitting on mono skis, taking a rest shooting the breeze in the middle of the trail while their dogs sniffed the tell tale yellow signatures that marked snow banks. A dad and his son on a sled shot by us like a rocket, the grin on his kid’s face spreading out into the whizzing air around his head.
The moon was so milky and almost full on our way back down the trail that our figures cast pale shadows on the ground, our bodies backlit. Bean in the backpack sang the whole time and stuck his tongue out inquisitively into the cold air. His cheeks like cherry stains, ruddy and round, tucked into the hood of his snowsuit.
Heading towards home we stopped at a coffee shop to eat nutty carrot cake and cappuccinos, and the warmth of the cup made my hands tingle.
setting sun
me & the Bean
moon tree
underbrush
twilight over the valley