I used to think the cold was the hardest part of winter, the part that dragged on the longest.
As I get older, I realize much of it is the color. It's this lonely blue and brown of appalachia that seeps deep into the psych, and oustays it's welcome by a solid 2-3 months.
I like to take evenings and go on these lonely winter walks as the sun goes down, sometimes there's not a single soul up on the top of the mountains where the trails converge, and the wind cuts so deep that 3 layers won't keep you from the sting of this appalachian lonliness.
It whips to and fro, holler to holler, and these deep, ancient hills speak a long forgotten language to anyone willing to sit with them while so much of the life has gone long underground into a deep sleep to wait for more welcoming months.
Being in the mountains in the dead of winter is even more of a reminder of life that we currently possess. To be alive and traversing through the death, decay, and to a lesser degree, the hibernating souls that are all around you draws the breath that much deeper into your lungs, the silence paints pulling the heartbeat fully through my chest, and even my breath paints a canvas in the frigid, perfectly clear air. Even more so from recent history to look around at entire mountainsides that have been leveled by the power of that storm that we've already heard too much about adds to the thankfulness to still be chosen enough to still be on this side of the dirt.
No doubt, mid april will roll around like it always has and depending on weather patterns and such we will start seeing the early blooms, the trails will be full, and we will be pulled back in the graces of that celestial body that paints these mountains in a full palette of color and life, but I challenge you to get out there and see for yourself what you might find for yourself in these shorter, darker days in the mountains.I used to think the cold was the hardest part of winter, the part that dragged on the longest.
