My parents were visiting this past week. We spent three glorious days skiing in Fernie.
Please meet Jim and Sally
The first night, Dad and Dan and I stayed up and had a bottle of wine and talked and talked in the ski lodge. There were heated games of Euchre. Delicious dinners. More wine. Skiing.
I came back early because I had an interview. I couldn’t sleep the night before and in the morning I sweat right through the dress I had picked out so I raced around the neighborhood trying to find an appropriate outfit.
When Mom and Dad came back to town we went to the radio station and they told stories about my childhood.
When Place Becomes Time Machine
A little piece I wrote for Matador Network. I hope you like it. Thanks for reading 🙂
I know. It’s been a while. How are you?
Some sunshine has fallen on Calgary, but we’re still a long way from green here. The key to survival and happiness is the mountains of course. Last weekend Sara and I skied Sunshine and swooshed through 40 cm of fresh snow.
Sara and I were talking about how we had fallen in love with the Rockies on the chairlift and she said, “I’ve come to wonder if I can live without them.”
Right now I’m waiting for my parents to arrive. They’re flying in today from Minneapolis and I can’t wait to see them. They just landed (don’t worry, they’re renting a car, so I’m not neglecting them) and I just pulled a fresh loaf of sourdough bread out of the oven. That’s another thing about winter–plenty of time to learn to do new things. Dan grew us a sourdough starter and he fusses over it every day like a little pet. It’s very sweet. The bread is really beautiful, crusty and full of holes. You can see why people fall in love with baking. There’s so much that goes into it–mixing and kneading and rising and forming and rising again and baking and settling. All that before you can take one little bite. The process has a life of its own. Like writing. Or lots of things. You start with a few simple things–flour, water–a computer, words–and somehow it becomes something interesting and unexpected.
Or, as bread mastermind Chad Robertson puts it: “Bread to me is a mixture of flour and water that is transformed into something–through the course of fermentation–that transcends the simplicity of those basic ingredients. (And really…his bread is heaven…it’s worth flying to San Francisco just to taste it.)
The other thing I love about winter? Sunday mornings with a cozy blanket, a cup of coffee, and long uninterrupted hours with a book.
I hope spring is blowing in wherever you might be. I hope you spot a bud or a flower ready to burst, that you happily unzip your hoodie and happily tie it around your waist.