I had hoped that my next post would be about Houston as a Winter Wonderland and that I’d have pictures of actual snow.

We had a little ice, anyway. Today’s high was around 80.

This climate is so yucky.

Take me with a pillar of salt, though, because I’ve spent the last few months checked into a room at the Black Lodge, which is where the sad people go. I’m working on it.

Thankfully, just as I was about at my wit’s end, we absconded to Colorado to visit dear friends who had a baby in December. This is the view from their back deck:

Nice, huh?

I love it there, even when there isn’t a tiny girl who just learned how to smile. Their house is almost at 9000 feet, so one does NOT run up the stairs, and I always have a headache the first day and then the occasional nosebleed from the dry air. But stellar jays, the far-off rumble of ravens, and the enormous swath of stars at night settle me into myself. The cold, fresh air smells delicious.

I feel as if I set down a great weight. I might pick it back up again, but for the moment, I feel lighter and able to sleep.

Heaviness doesn’t translate to writing. I compensate by knitting. I call this one “Virginia: Moody, with Hood”:

Silly photo aside, I am completely crazy about the idea of a scarf with an attached hood. I would wear this thing every day. Except, you know. Eighty degrees.