Sunday at the Trailshelter

I had the great fortune to spend some time catching up on news from 2007 & 2008 - papers left behind for firestarter, splitting wood, preparing food from the heat of a woodstove, melting snow for water and watching the sun and moon pass along the sky. With ever decreasing air temperatures (bottoming out at -43F) and increasing spirit - I found a day alone at the Trailshelter to be just the kind of day I'd been longing for.

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When the mercury cannot rise above thirty five below,

And breaking trail is thwarted by scorched blazes of a summer's wildfire,

There's a little hut offering sanctuary to the wayward skier,

That tenders quiet contemplation as frost melts from frozen lashes,

And serves a pastel sorbet evening sunset.

Just another long weekend in the White Mountains Recreation Area.