I went snow shoeing for the first time in years today,
and now my muscles and ligaments are trying to get along.
Rae and I walked down to the beach and pretended we were explorers from another land- the land did seem alien to us- the addition of french accents and poor grammar completed the scene. I hadn't been down to the beach in about a month... seriously, who lives just a few blocks from the beach and doesn't go everyday? I need to change that- except for the cold. The cold has been the best reason EVER to avoid going.
The ice has been churning up against the shore, building. Creating false cliffs out in the water... well beyond the actual shore. There's a miniature ice burg locked in the corner of the breakwater to the harbour- the groans and sighs of the water heaving in and out of it's cracks sound haunted. A few times I stopped just to listen. Silence. Water birds. Slushy sloppy ice further out, the waves carrying it, mixing it.
We walked the dunes on the beach, climbed up on the breakwater, skirted the harbour. Chased some birds, wrote love letters to hobbits in the snow, and forged a trail to the bakery for warm bread and cookies.
Can we just revisit that comment about the bad french accents?
Photos to follow... eventually.
I turned the heat back up in the hot tub this morning before we set out.
Best thought ever.