This is my original Waffles & Weed post that somehow got archived (read lost) and just appeared in my feed so I thought I’d share. Tomorrow I am hoping to share something bigger 🙂 Enjoy!
Okay. So, some of you are scratching your heads right now. No, this post is not about stoner munchie options.
This is about the happiest place on earth, at least to me. I took the day off to head up to the Green Mountains for a day of skiing. Gray, overcast sky. Snow flurries drifting down. Parking in a non-parking space because the rest were taken.
Around twenty-eight degrees at the base.
To me, an almost perfect ski day. There is something magical about spending time with Mother Nature. Yesterday I hiked with a friend up to a ridge overlooking I-91. In the distance clouds reflected on a body of water which sat in the middle of two hills.
I slid up the trail of rock and mud just to get a glimpse, before we glided down with hopes of not wrecking a knee or twisting an ankle. There is a quietness to this experience.
Today was different.
The purr of the ski lift, my hubby by my side, we shivered as the wind cut through the snow-covered trees. The top was fogged in yet about a third of the way down one could see across the valley. Ski trails gleamed off neighboring mountains.
Today required much more concentration to avoid the ice patches and unpredictable munchkins who fly passed with no fear. Yet this too is relaxing. The mountain air slaps my face. The snow almost burns any exposed skin.
Back in my twenties, I would ski by myself with my walk man blasting a Grateful Dead bootleg or maybe a mixed tape with some John Hiatt and Cream. Today I hear music in my head. Slow Turning keeps popping in and out as I concentrate on not falling. (We witnessed over a half-dozen sled rides and conditions were decent. We hope none are serious injuries.) It doesn’t matter if I am going down a black diamond (too icy for those today) or a blue or green trail, my focus is the same.
We all need to find spaces that make us happy. Live music, mountain air, and dancing pretty much does it for me. So, what is yours?
(Now I know gentle reader, you are wondering where the weed and waffles come in to play. Yesterday the sweet smell drifted in the distance as we hiked. Today the same scent mixed with the waffle shack’s residue at the base of the mountain. I could go and stereotype here yet I just found it funny and think that it makes a great band name. I would go see them!)
L.M. Pampuro 