Hills we climb every day

From my loft office on the side of the hill, I look out on tree tops and the mountain across the small valley.  The mountain is coincidentally named  Kidder Mountain, one of my last names was Kidder in an earlier life.

For the ninth straight day snow is drifting down.  Sometimes it is an intense white-out, but for the most part it is dancing flurries.  I feel like Heidi living in the Alps.  What I can’t see from here is the road below or what the driving conditions are at any given moment.  So, I was amazed when I bundled up, grabbed Alice and headed down the driveway to get the mail.   The roads wet but clear and the rest of the world was going about its business.

From the mailbox I acquiesced to Alice and started down the road.  All  the neighbor’s driveways looked like mine, covered with snow, but theirs  had sliding tire marks.  We walked to a neighbor’s cabin.  He was just heading out as we turned down his long driveway.  He invited us in but first Alice and Slinky needed playtime.  “Slinks” is a beautiful dog of unknown origin who displays a bent toward Basset Hound.  She’s a charmer with her wonky eye and love of attention.

Alice never really learned to play, being a pup-producer for the first two years of her life.  She and Slinks have a strange relationship – I think Alice desperately envies Slinks’ ability to embrace life so exuberantly.

The cabin was warm and comfortable with the massive wood stove roaring by the door.  A fat, golden chicken clucked softly to herself in a dog crate near the kitchen.  Classical music drifted in the background.

As I walked Alice back down the road, I thought about all the changes I have made and the hills I have climbed when making those changes.  The hills I used to drive through every day, 5 days a week to work.  The hills on the trails that I ride behind the barn.

The hills seem easy when you are focused on the mountains.

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