Slender Things Sticking out of Other Things -- and Poop

Photos by Greg

I had this stack of images from the last month or so that hadn't made it into any of the recent posts. I thought that I'd go ahead and do a Random Photo post like Trina. But as I got to looking at them, I realized that -- strangely -- there was a common theme running through the shots. So here they are -- each featuring something slender -- or at least somewhat slender -- sticking out of something else. And one of poop.











Cranberries: not very slender.


Either the Himalayas, or Trina's meringue.

Random 7

Text and photos: Trina

Perilously close to the crusts: I came upon these sitting on someone's top porch step. No child in sight. I imagine her darting to safety when she realized how close to the crusts she'd come.



"Yeah, really exciting blog, you guys."



Cranberry pecan frangipane snowflake tart -- really, really good!



Winter patio



Chocolate pie with meringue, almost as good as Gram's



Fig corpses... again



Upside down orange cake -- pretty, but no recipe because this one gets a "don't bother" rating.

Half-n-Half

Photos: Trina and Greg
Words: Greg



The deep cold turned warmer this weekend. So we went riding. Warm enough to allow some bare skin. We didn't get started very early, but early enough to get in a ride before the trails got soft. As it was, the trails were half dirt, half snow, and all fun.

There weren't many folks out there. Most of them we came across were having fun barreling through the snow. We were having fun barreling through the snow. But a few of them seemed to be having a "serious" problem. Which is hard for us to understand, since we love biking but don't take it very seriously.

The sky was thick and white with haze that made distant cliffs and mesas seem more distant than they are, and made the whole world seem like a huge and wild place to be riding.

Trina and I took turns taking photos of each other. The dogs took turns racing back and forth, up and down, in and out. The sun burned from bright to mellow as waves of gauzy clouds passed overhead.

Cows were ambling around eating the fresh green grass. Except there wasn't any fresh green grass. Maybe they were eating snow and fading away.

Hope and Warmth

Hope and Warmth by Greg

As lovely as photos of snow, ice and frost can be, and as essential as Living In The Moments can be to one's perception of happiness... It still strikes me that most of us reading this are living in the Northern Hemisphere and can easily see snow, ice and frost by looking outside. Or even, if we dare, to go outside -- which, given the current spate of low temperatures, requires that almost all of our sensory receptors be swaddled in stifling layers of wool, down, and polypropylene.

With that in mind, I present a diversion.

First, a ray of Hope: It's practically the middle January, which means that in (practically) half a month it will be February, and then it's just one (short!) month until March. If you're following my math here, you will realize that there is need for neither wailing nor lamentation about the cold, the dark, or the length and dread of Winter. For Spring -- with its verdant breezes, abundant daylight, and promised blossoms -- is practically, nearly, increasingly, almost here!

Soon our senses will be unswaddled and we will be soaking up the delights of that gentler season. And to remind us (since we will likely need reminding during the intermediary arctic trend) I have resurrected several photos from last year that clearly show riders in shorts and short sleeves on bare-of-snow trails in March -- early March even!











With that Hope laid out before us, I offer further consolation via a few photos of warmers places. If the hope of Spring's warmth still seems a bit too distant, perhaps we can sit a little closer to our screens, kick off our flip-flops, lay back in the warm sand, and indulge in the heat of our tropical imaginations.