The Battle

 There is a thick fog hovering just above the snow dusted mountains outside my window, obscuring the pointed tip of Fremont Peak. There is a pink hue inside my tiny house that is a reflection from the mountains illuminated by the bright sunrise. It's a surreal earthly experience. 

This past week, I fell into a gopher hole and twisted my foot rather remarkably. I have historically strong ankles, so the pain was an unexpected surprise. It turned almost instantly black and blue from the heel to my toes. I was still able to walk on it with good hiking boots, amazingly, and now it's just a faded green color with the swelling almost completely dissipated. I'll need to be gentle with it for a few weeks, undoubtedly, which isn't my strong point, but alas. Declan was instantly inspired by the event with a plethora of puns. He told me I should perform a "Feetwood Mc" concert, "feeturing" myself and my own rendition of "Footloose". He said, "I'm sorry my puns are toe bad." "Maybe you need a leg up." He suggested I should probably go to "boot camp." I hope you can 'heel' quickly. "Shoe" probably want me to stop, right?  

The boys and I cleaned up the post-flooding rocks from our big field, finally. It has been a 2 year goal, but always something of a last priority. We made some gabions for our driveway entrance with the rocks we harvested and I finally created a new mailbox. Since 2022 our mailbox has been almost 14 inches too short due to the mud that was deposited across the land. As time progressively continued to dilapidated the old box, I was motivated to do something about it. Out new mailbox is reflective of the history of this place we call home. :-) 

November is not my favorite month - it means fall has exited and winter has the whole highway to itself. It's also the anniversary month of death for many who have gone before in our family, including my Daddy. It always amazes me how the world keeps spinning, stoplights work as usual, sunrise beckons in the morning even as a life comes to an end. We are expected to and must carry on, living our lives as the gifts they are. The pain and consequences of loss are strangely fresh no matter how much time attempts to fill the void. William H. Murie was a truly great man and I know there is significant importance in the remembrance.

November also marks the birth dates of some of the most influential people in my life so I am incredibly grateful for the month, too. It ushers in the holiday season and I LOVE watching the excitement that comes with that, especially in my boys. They are obsessively planning Christmas gifts to make for the people they love and I seriously doubt that the 6 week runway will be sufficient, but I am historically in awe of their efficiency, so.... 

So, on this brooding winter day, as the sun fights to be visible, it is hope and anticipation that tickle at the threads of my heart. The reality of long grief hovers, but the sun prevails.