Treacherous trails and wind chills have kept me in hibernation most of this winter. With the sun shining the other day, and my son home recovering from a few sick days, we seized the opportunity to visit the forest across the road and go for a hike.

It was cold despite the sun.

It was drab grey brown in the forest.

The waterfall, normally rushing with the spring thaw was thickly frozen.

The forest valley floor still covered consistently in snow.

Not many signs of spring.

I would have powered through the walk to get the exercise and get back home to the fireplace, but my son slowed me down. Not because he walks slow, but because he wonders. A broken stick found along the way presents endless imaginings. Perfect locations for Hobbit holes are found at every turn. We pick our way down the icy slope, wondering at the way the wind moves the trees and yet we never see it.

Our conversation meanders like the path.

Out in the open on the way home, where the wind is cold until we turn away, we cut across a field at his suggestion. I hesitate, then wonder why I’ve never thought of that? As soon as it warms up, it will be too muddy, this is the perfect time to break the rules. Suddenly I notice that the field is not flat as I have always assumed. Walking through it showed the undulations  and variations that cannot be seen from a distance.

We return to the fireplace and hot chocolate. He settles down to watch a movie and I return to the computer to  work. He has no idea how much I will treasure this wondering/wandering hour we spent together.