The week thus far has been swell for “doing stuff.” Sure, it was inside, but doing stuff nonetheless.
Along with miles on the Hammer, I’ve started to lift heavy things for no reason a bit. Wifey and I are headed on a second a honeymoon of sorts at the end of January—celebrating 21.5 years of marital blissful-ish-ness—and I need to get those muscles hidden under my man rolls in shape before I hit the nude beach. Who am I kidding, I haven’t bared my scared torso to sunlight or the public since I was 8 years old! Good thing my new swimsuits from BashfulBodz™ arrived this week. Funny what gaining 100+ pounds between the ages of 14 and 18 will do to one’s body (and mind). I digress.
I can feel some mental change in the air, and I was kicking myself for not getting out on the dirt roads on Wednesday. Had I left the house before 1:45 PM I would have known that the temps were in the high 40s and a ride would have quite tolerable, to say the least. But alas, I wasted that opportunity.
On Wednesday (a day that I swore was Thursday until corrected by Wifey and B that evening) I found some time to squeeze in a quick walk in the woods with my camera between errands, school pickup, and dinner prep.
The woods of the Sylvan Preserve are dead, brown, and drab. There was hardly a sound to be heard in the woods other than one random squeak of a bird as I made my way towards the car and home. In the woods, the only signs of life at all were some recent woodpecker activity and some deer hoof prints and turds here and there. I’ll be happy when spring gets here, and the forest becomes teeming with life again. Or at least some snow to cover up the wall to wall brown!