Blog
Another Christmas at Sawyer’s Peak
I wake to soft streams of light pouring through the window of my childhood bedroom, and the warmth of a small curled body that has taken liberty to climb under my covers while I slept. Feigning slumber, I peek one eye open to look out the slats of my window blinds, and glimpse a flurry of white fairies littering the crisp winter air. They settle on the lawn and patio like a coating of powdered sugar. I inhale with deep satisfaction. It’s Christmas morning.
Waking Up to Winter in the Mountains
I thought inside was quiet until I opened the sliding glass door of the log cabin balcony. When the seal was broken, inside became a turbulent detonation of noise—the clicks of the heater are an angry percussionist, the ambient hum of the humidifier a raging swarm of bees, the creak of the floorboards falling timber—compared to the sacred stillness of the snowy morning.
Jacuzzi in the Snow
Snow falls like shooting stars as I zoom through space. I blink as a flake hits my eye, and smile. Kingly pine trees scrape the night sky, holding out arms coated in white bouquets of snow, eclipsed by black branches. Returning my craning neck to a comfortable position, I sink deeper into the curve of my jacuzzi throne, letting my ice cold back submerge into contrasting tea-hot water. Snowflakes sting my exposed skin, a painful pleasure.