Before it's light enough to ski, I sit down to work on my most recent collage – and instead, suddenly return to work on one that I had recently set aside when I couldn't see where it was going, and it wasn't yet beautiful or interesting. (I'm also working on a poem to bring to my group tonight; like the collage, I'm not sure it's working and I'm considering putting it aside.) My breakthrough is, I find that I have an Ursula K. Le Guin poem about initiation printed and set on my work table, waiting to see what to do with it, and now I see where the poem belongs, because it's the key that unlocks the mysterious trance of this collage.

It's Monday, my schedule is tight, so I clean up and put on my skis, eager to go out into the milder weather (30 degrees warmer than yesterday!)  The trails are nicely groomed and busier with dog walkers than they've been in a long time. The snow on the trail has lost its freshness, but off the trail it gleams in the sun. It's easy to stop for pictures today and remove a glove and use my bare fingers freely and take my time. In a footprint I snap the most lovely arrangement of forest detritus, so naturally, so perfectly arranged. I stay in the woods enjoying myself so much longer than expected, and finally take myself home - too soon.