Atticus's Different Winter Hiking Season

I think perhaps the gift that comes from Atticus turning thirteen is that as he has slowed down, I have too.  The difference being that I'm doing it by choice.  I now pay attention to different things on our walks through the woods.  Instead of being in a constant hurry, as we were for our first winters, when we were still peak-bagging, and being oh-so-proud of the latest epic adventure, I now take stock of the little things. Instead of hikes of more than twenty miles, or those where we reached the summits of three or four or five mountains in a day, now even the shortest walk in the woods is filled with wonder.  The gentle fall of snowflakes and the quietude that accompanies it.  The way beech tree leaves turn from yellow to bronze to brown to a ghostly yellow and how they flutter even when there doesn't seem to be a breeze.  Animal tracks, both big and small, and the stories they tell as we follow them through the snowy carpet of winter.  The warmth of the sun, even on days when the temperature is below zero.  The sound we make walking through the snow, the crisp and clean air we breath, even the taste of snow, which we both enjoy.  Gifts abound and they surround us in the natural world.

These days Atticus lets me know what he's up to.  He always has, but as the years have progressed he now cancels hikes, or stops after only a quarter of a mile, which he only did perhaps five times in the first few years of winter hiking.  For us the one mile round trip to Diana's Baths through a winter wonderland of frosted pines is enchanting.  The hike up short but scenic Middle Mountain gives us plenty of mileage for a day.  And then there are the times that surprise me.  The first that comes to mind is the ten mile round trip up and down North Moat a few weeks ago.  It was like the "old days" for us. 

I'm not sure what Atticus can do when it comes to mileage anymore.  But that's the point.  It's not important.  I wouldn't say that Atticus has retired from hiking, it's just that he's retired from extreme hiking.  Once the weather and trail conditions determined where we went in.  Now, along with that, I let my aging friend also have a say. 

I've never felt a reason to push him, but by setting the bars lower in what I hope to do, I'm opening up the possibilities that come with shorter hikes.  And still, Atticus and I get out and get to enjoy it.  I like that he still thrives during these outings and when I put myself in his shoes . . . well, I guess I'd be about eighty some odd years old, and to be able to do what he's doing now when I'm that age - I'll take it. 

To make the trails easier for him, we now hike more at night when the trails have been broken out by other hikers. What we miss in views we make up for in wonder.  To sit on an insulated pad together and look up at a crystal clear night with stars in abundance and the planets and the moon overhead is a gift not enough people appreciate.  Not just in winter, but any time of the year.  It's just that the view is prettier in December, January, and February than it is in warmer months.

If we are fortunate, we all get older.  We make adjustments.  But that doesn't mean there's any less wonder out there.  Emily Dickinson reportedly rarely left her yard in Amherst, Massachusetts, but she saw the divinity in everything.  William Blake wrote, "To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a Wild Flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And Eternity in an hour."  Things don't have to be epic or huge to be transcendent.  The universe blooms everywhere - even right outside our doors or just down the street. 

Do we miss some of the higher peaks we'll never get to together again?  I can't speak for Atticus, but I do.  But part of gratitude is when you realize that what you have is enough.  In learning to slow down and relax my expectations, we continue to enjoy the trails and the seasons.  Both those that cloak the mountains and valleys around us, and the seasons of our lives, as well.