floating

Flying is like floating on the air. There isn't much of a sense of movement, as our senses only detect acceleration, not constant motion. When walking on snow, the only thing holding you up is water, and we walk suspended above the ground.

This Christmas, we took trip to Wisconsin, but were held up by a cancelled flight in St. Paul/Minneapolis. Fortunately I had a old schoolmate in the area, with whom we were already spending the four-hour layover. Our connecting flight was first delayed due to heavy snow, then cancelled. I called every rental car place in the city, but there were none available. Instead we spent a couple of days with my good friend and her family, spending Christmas Eve with them until our next available flight on Christmas day. With 22 degrees for the high and lows in the single digits, we took a walk down to the Mississippi river. I slipped and slid downhill on Doc Martens whose soles harden with cold. I slid by a bank of hostas, the only telltale sign of them being the distinctive remaining flower stalks. With hands numb and face frozen, this picture was taken. New Mexico cold didn't seem so bad.

But of course tonight will be 15 degrees.