How nice it is to mention going sledding and having a husband who drops what he’s doing to sharpen his chainsaw the day before a snowstorm. Down came a few “ironwood” saplings (to be used for winter heating) and up we climbed the next day to have some fun.
You’re never too old to coast down a hill. The goats were not impressed.
WINTER IN STRATHEARN by John Davidson The twinkling Earn, like a blade in the snow, The low hills scalloped against the high, The high hills leaping upon the low, And the amber wine in the cup of the sky, With the white world creaming over the rim, She watched; and a keen aroma rose, Embodied, a star above the snows; For when the west sky-edge grows dim, When lights are silver and shades are brown, Behind Torlum the sun goes down; And from Glenartney, night by night; The full fair star of evening creeps; Though spectral branches clasp it tight, Like magic from their hold it leaps. And reaches heaven at once. Her sight Gathers the star, and in her eyes She meekly wears heaven's fairest prize.