SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Wednesday, Feb. 08, 2012 @ 4:05 pm
Full Moon



Moonlight, skis, and me. Moonlight sparkling off of the top crust of snow, an infinite number of tiny stars around my feet. I push my hand through the crust and take a handful and push the dry cold diamond dust into my mouth. It slowly melts, sweat runs down my back, and my breath fog lingers thickly before me.

Full moon casts shadows from thin pine trees. Moisture freezes in the corner of my eyes. The alpine smell of rosin and wood smoke. Diesel and coal dust from the rail corridor beyond.

After, at night in bed, my legs twinge from being used. My face blotchy from the windchill. Flannel and down and the lights out.

Things got better on the weekend. I skiied like crazy. I went to a party. I finished a sewing project. I baked and iced two carrot cakes. I watched movies under quilts drinking tea with Alf.

The day after tomorrow I will be back in lotus land. Ferns and moss and soft-barked cedars. The ocean, my feet on bicycle pedals, laurel hedges two storeys tall. Wearing city shoes, a spring coat. Dancing on the roof of a sky scraper. Maybe in the rain.


Roots | Shoots