I'm cozied up by the fire, catching up on work while Anna and Tim are out. My body is blissed out from the run in the woods this morning. I ran with the pack of women from East Sooke through Coppermine Trail to the coast and back, just like the old days. It started to snow when we reached the coast, just a few light flakes, as we paused amidst the unmatched beauty of the end of that trail, the water swirling below us, arbutus and hemlock around us, seagulls dancing above us, the giant uprooted stump still in its resting place in the bay below. I forget how elemental it is to go running through the woods in a pack, how right it feels.
Now the snow is falling thickly, and I'm watching it, and roofers, through the big window in the living room. I'm happy here, even if homesick for the trails and how easy it used to be to head out and do that every Saturday morning. I don't miss the old house. But I'm so thankful that I did live there for those years, and met my friends from there, and learned to run and drink in the beauty.
