Into the Woods

What is one of the easiest ways to tell that it's winter? By the amount of time we spend talking and thinking about the weather, of course! On Saturday, we got an ice event, complete with freezing rain and a mix of wintry precipitation that made travel hazardous; so we stayed in. An actual snowstorm is expected to arrive sometime late Monday and continue into the day Tuesday, bringing us several inches of snow before dropping us into another Ice Age later in the week.

But in between all of that, temperatures were expected to rise on Sunday afternoon, and to melt away any of the icy mess that remained. Sunday was my last day of holiday vacation from work. Penn State closes down for about 10 days around Christmas, and employees are given the time off. We usually go back shortly after the first of the new year.

So I was torn between trying to accomplish everything that had been on my holiday break to-do list (yes, there is always a list) of things that I wanted to get done around the house over the break, and trying to store up enough relaxation to get me through the work week ahead.

My husband decided to go running in our local gameland shortly after noon, and even though it had been alternating between raining and misting, I decided to accompany him. I thought some fresh air might do me good. And besides, woods time is good for the soul, no matter the weather! And so we set out into the mist.

The temperatures had not risen much. In fact, I'm not sure it ever got more than a few degrees above freezing in the Scotia Barrens, where this photo was taken. So much for the big warming trend.

The little dirt road into the gameland parking lot - and the parking lot itself - was an absolute nightmare. It was a sheet of melting ice upon which rain had fallen, and I submit to you that there may be no more slippery surface known to man (or woman, for that matter). You could not walk on it. For safety's sake, I carefully picked my way on fallen leaves and mud along the side of the path.

At first, the weather was mostly misty, and I was having fun capturing some mist shots with the camera, which I carried tucked under my sort-of-mostly-waterproof jacket. Then it got even drippier.

I hadn't brought an umbrella, so I was forced to take shelter under various trees and branches whenever I wanted to whip out the camera for a photo or two. I strolled down a familiar path to places I know well: little beaver ponds lined with pines, and of course, orange pine needles on the ground. 

When the rain turned into a downpour, I quickly tucked my camera into its bag beneath my coat and beat a hasty retreat back up the hill, picked my way back out along the parking lot and dirt road, and then made my way home. I arrived back at the house chilled to the bone and soaking wet, of course (and ready for a nice cup of something hot!), but most importantly, I managed to keep the camera dry!

I have been a child of the wild woods ever since I could toddle. And as I grow older, and have lived a few years in town, I appreciate the woods even more. It lifts my spirits just to be there, breathing in and out, seeing what is to be seen . . . in these wild places where there is no ceiling, only open sky. The tune: Eddie Vedder, No Ceiling, from the soundtrack to the film Into the Wild.