seasonal

This winter came softly, but stayed heavy. The snow and the cold is always so magical through the holidays, as though it belongs there, blanketing everything in sparkly goodness. But then it never goes away. And the twinkling white snow gives way to the never ending deluge of sludge and grey. This winter felt like an eternity. The gloom and grey of outside seeped in, and I know everyone in our house felt it. Trapped in our house, trapped in our minds. By the end of March, we were all claustrophobic. 

And so yesterday, when Jess got home, and said, "Wanna go for a hike?" We dropped everything. Literally. Meals unfinished, dishwasher half loaded. And we went. 

The world in its seasons is a pretty spectacular thing. But what is the most spectacular - I think - is the way the beginning of each new season is quite literally a relief. First we crave the sunshine. The snow is gone, and lovely blossoms take its place. This eventually gives way to a longing for cool, crisp air and crunchy leaves. And then back to the snow, the magic of the holidays - food, family, tradition. And then we repeat.

For our part, this trail (Temple Quarry Trail, at the base of Little Cottonwood Canyon) is also a repeat. We go repeatedly. Sometimes several times a week. It's not really a hike (as evidenced by Annabelle's choice of hiking clothes), but it's hike enough for the girls. And it's nestled next to towering canyon walls, craggled mountains that last night pronounced from Belle a cocked head to the sky and a simple, "Wow."

Welcome spring. We have been waiting. :)

{This one is going on the wall.}

And now for nostalgia's sake, Annabelle every year, at the same place, on the same trail. She really is no baby anymore, is she.