Stepping out of the van, I breathed in and turned my face toward the sun. The air was cold on my lungs and I wrapped my scarf around my face to warm the air before breathing in. John and I filled our backpacks with food and our 10 essentials bag, then picked up our snowshoes, and poles, we walked over to the boundary of the ski area. We've been to Artist Point before, in the summer. We've skied at the resort during the winter. We've even hiked around Table Mountain but this was our first endeavor in the winter with snow shoes. I wasn't sure what to expect but I was excited. I had listened carefully to the lady who rented us our equipment so I placed the ball of my foot at the edge but not off the snowshoe and strapped in the heal first. Looking down at the ground, my sunglasses fogged up as I finished with the straps. Glancing around we started up the path, learning how the shoes worked. With in 15 minutes I shed a layer and then another and another. My mittens were in my pack as well as my outer jacket and my other one tied around my waist. I was sweating under my hat and where my backpack rested against my back. I was breathing hard and my calf muscles were burning. We came to a fork in the path and wondered which way to Artist Point. There were ski and boarding trails all along the ridges and into the valley. Voices carried and people were everywhere. I had envisioned that we would be alone on this trek but I was greatly mistaken with a fairly calm, windless yet sunny day, the mountain attracted the masses. We continued our hike until I begged for lunch. My internal clock is set for lunch between 11 and 12 even if I have breakfast at 8 am. Pulling out our sleeping pad we sat down to enjoy the view, the sun and food.  I just couldn't stop marveling and looking around at the area I was in. The snow glistened and sparkled. The blue sky stretched over mountains and valleys and the snow clad trees stood as silent sentinels along the pristine and untouched snow. I was in another world being powered by the sun, re-energizing my internal solar panels. Shouldering our packs we headed further into the wilderness with the top of artist point being our goal. We hiked and rested and I took photos and my calves burned with my lungs and we kept going. At the top of Artist Point we were greeted by a Camp Robber. He was daring, brave and probably hungry. He took apples out of John's hand. Our adventure didn't stop at the top, it was just a momentary distraction, a place to start. From there we wandered back towards the upper lodge, exploring side canyons, talking about our next foray into the white wilderness of our beautiful wilderness area.  I had no idea of the diversity of the "back country" of our ski area. It brought people out to snowshoe, the cross country ski, to downhill ski out of bounds and to create monster jumps enough to flip from. It was a world that I hope to explore again.

 The stockings are hung by the chimney with care in hopes that the teenagers will let me sleep in.  I can't remember how long ago I started using the stockings as entertainment while I slept in on Christmas morning. I put in things such as socks, gum, sometimes cereal, and candy. This year I found fuzzy lap blankets for each kid for $5.  I couldn't pass them up and when rolled they still fit in the stocking. Job and Lona made plans to wake early because they are still excited for Christmas morning. The rest of us really wanted to sleep in.  It was becoming a habit with John off work and the kids out of school.  However this Christmas held a different kind of morning for us.  I woke to hear the two early birds fighting, by the time I came downstairs Job was in tears and there was a pool of blood under his foot.  He had stubbed his toe so bad that he popped the nail out of the nail bed and through the skin. We cleaned and bandaged it as well as possible and he hobbled the rest of the day. With his foot elevated he read the Christmas story to us before opening presents and then played Xbox the rest of the day since his toe hurt so bad.  We ended up changing the dressing every couple of hours and the next day headed to the doctor to see if it was broken.  It wasn't but he needed to change the dressing everyday and keep a close eye on it to make sure it didn't get infected.  It will be a Christmas to remember that is for sure.

After many years of piano lessons it's time to say goodbye.  I'm having a hard time with it. I want so badly for my daughter to continue playing the piano. I want to hear the music float through the house. I love listening to her play and at times I'm a little envious of how easy it is for her. It's almost like a second language. If she put more effort in it she would be almost fluent but it isn't her passion, her dream.  It's an activity but nothing more. It was easier being homeschooled to keep up with piano. It was the first thing she did in the morning and it was part of her schedule, just like math or reading. But as with life, things change and part of that is moving on from homeschool to public school. Now it has been put on the back burner. She comes home and has a snack, starts on school work then goes to soccer practice. Piano is just not the first thing she does and it makes me sad. Sometimes it's Monday after school when she gets to practice, right before her lesson. It just isn't working anymore. She doesn't want to quit but isn't willing to put forth the effort to make time to practice.  I can't make her practice.  I can, but it isn't productive at all and leaves both of us discouraged.  So after tears from myself and maybe a little from her, it's time to say goodbye to this area of her life.

A couple of years ago I stumbled upon the fact that Bald Eagles congregate along the Nooksack River during salmon spawning season.  Lona and I made a couple of treks out there. This year I convinced our friends and the rest of the family to go with us. We drove up Mount Baker Highway to Mosquito Lake Road and pulled into the fishing access. I was excited and hopeful. The rain had been coming down hard and I really wanted to see the Eagles, not only for me but for the rest of the crew I had convinced to make the trek to the bridge.  We pulled into the fishing access and I knew by the line of cars that we wouldn't have a problem. The screeching from the eagles surrounded us as we stepped from our vans. I lifted up my eyes to see the white heads of the eagles lining the river bank downstream.  Turning up stream, I saw one on the otherside of the river tearing appart a salmon. We walked up to the bridge and scanned upstream. There they were, in the river, in the trees, all along the river bank. I felt giddy, like a little kid in a toy store. Everything I knew about photography flew out of my head. I couldn't remember which direction to turn to zoom in. I was sharing something special with family and friends. This place, these birds, together takes my breath away each time. I feel blessed to live in this part of the country. Where else can you drive for 45 minutes and see over a hundred bald eagles in the wild? Truly amazing.

Lona had a game in Sequim last weekend. It's the farthest we travel for games and it really isn't all that far but getting there is the difficult part.  Basically there are two options, drive all the way around the sound or take the ferry across.  Either way ends up being the same amount of time, however by taking the ferry you don't have to drive the whole time.  You are just at the mercy of the ferry schedule.  I chose the ferry.  We had some time to waste before and after the game, more so after the game and so Ilona (a teammate who came with us) suggested the Olympic Game Farm.  We had about 10 minutes from the time the game ended and they let the last car in before closing. We barely made it. I didn't know what to expect so I only bought two loaves of bread, if I ever go back I'd buy two loaves a person at least.  I pulled past the gate and followed the signs up a hill past cages of some kind of deer then over a cattle guard.  This is where it became exciting.  The llamas poked up their heads and started over towards our van.  With a little skip and a jump they were right next to us. The girls rolled down their window and the llamas poked their heads inside the vehicle.  I had my window down too but decided that when the llama poked it's head inside and looked at me right in the eyes and then laid back it's ears and squinted it was time to not be that close. We continued slowly down the hill, with the llamas right beside us.  As we turned the corner at the bottom of the hill, the yaks took notice and moved in. They used their horns to nudge the llamas out of the way and they started poking their heads inside.  At one point we had llamas on one side and yaks on another.  The llamas liked to nibble on the rubber part of the window while the yaks used the mirrors to itch their heads. This whole time, I'm trying to take photos and move slowly on through the park. The girls would reach out and try to touch the horns of the yaks or the necks of the llamas. And then came the zebras. Lona and Ilona were able to get photos of the zebras smiling (or at least it looked like they were smiling). Once past the llamas, yaks and zebras we came to the Kodiak bears.  There were signs everywhere to tell us to stay in the vehicle.  The wolves paced their cages and you could almost read their cunning thoughts. We pulled up to the elks and were paid a visit from them.  They are huge even without their antlers.  We were warned not to stop in the gateway but to feed them before the gate.  Somehow I neglected to see the sign about not stopping in the buffalo section and stop we did.  When the buffalo knocked the van with it's horn, I was a little freaked out and decided to keep  moving.  Only after that happened did I see a sign about it. The girls though did get to touch the buffalo before we drove off.  Lona did get a view of it's tongue and it tried to reach in and grab the bread by curling it's tongue around it.  It took over an hour to go through and we didn't get to all of it. We had a ferry to catch.

The wind whipped my hair past my face as the naked trees danced around me. The ground still frozen where the sun had not yet reached crunched under my feet. The crisp air tingled my cheeks as I ambled
down the path next to the river accompanied by my dog.  I watched him run, sniff, circle,  and return with pure abandoned joy. It was contagious.  I felt refreshed, alone by the river. The quiet was occasionally broken by the calling of the winter geese as they migrated overhead.  We made our way to to the tunnel of trees and bushes that gave us access to the private sandy beach along the river. I stopped, inhaled and breathed. I looked around, marveling at the beauty which I find so difficult to see on cold bleary grey days of winter.  The sun reflecting off the water not only warmed the ground but my soul as well. I tried to capture as much as I could not only with my camera but deep down so that I could pull out this moment when enduring multiple days without the sun. We spent time there by the river. We each were involved in our favorite activities. I observed, took photos and threw his ball. He waded, swam, sniffed, explored, and retrieved. Each of us content. And then it was time, time to head home, to return to the world run by schedules and clocks, to hours spent inside while the grey of the days tries its best to invade.