three souls in the snowy meadow

Two pairs of pants, two pairs of gloves, many shirts and a vest, a jacket, a scarf covering my face and a hat and I am quite comfortable. Enough so that I am determined to stop here and there, remove my gloves and take pictures as I please. Why complain about the cold? It's the lack of melting and precipitation that has kept the Christmas snow perfect for days.

Crossing the meadow where the high schoolers play lacrosse in better weather, the dogs run gleefully through frosted dried grass and milkweed husks into a freezing breeze across the windswept snow. And the blown ridges, waves of snow, might as well be blown sand the dogs are so happy to run free with nothing but their fur and energy for warmth; I think about our summer walks on Martha's Vineyard along the beach – how content the dogs are to run and sniff and smell everything fresh and rotten and mysterious and wonderful in any season. I follow them back to the parking lot when we're tired enough. 

I wake early, prepared for cold, and watch the sun rise from the window. Then I put my cross country skis and the dogs in the car and drive the half mile or so in my warm bushwhacking ski boots to Medfield State Hospital. In warmer weather, I can walk there through the woods and over the railroad trestle from my door. But, I can't manage the dogs on a leash with skis to cross the street to head there on foot. It's 7:30 a.m., and we are the only ones out.

All photos and text copyright Kelly DuMar