a quiet soft day, lovely, gray. still.
I walked up the hill today, the trail so slippery from yesterday's thaw and last night's plunge back below freezing... so I spent a lot of time walking the edges, stepping in the soft snow.
The whole walk up was silent except for the sound of my boots in the snow, my breath, the rustle of my sleeves.
At the top there was a little breeze, only the slightest movement causing a shiver and rattle of the beech leaves. Some parts of the trail were covered with tiny little yellow curls, they looked like lemon zest, but up close they look like the outer covers of buds? is this possible? this time of year that is the color-- silvery greengray lichen, the strawberry blond beech leaves, and the yellow pieces of whatever it is. One tree, standing deadwood, had a scatter of new reddish wood chips at the base, evidence of a busy woodpecker or other borer.
My brain kept me company. I wish I could write a fraction of what flies through, but maybe it is best that I cannot possibly do it justice. It would make me sound nutty anyway. But my monkeymind babbled its way through the hike, I kept it still for a breath or two, but mostly I just let it rush by.
The hike was wonderful, great to feel my heart pound like that, great to feel warm and feel my muscles working, and to remember that the very first time I took this hike long ago I could not do it -- I had to keep stopping. It is great to have physical evidence of progress.
At the top, the gray softened the far away edges, but everything else felt super clear, very sharp and focused. I let my eyes rest on the smooth bark of a beech tree, on the serrated edges of the leaves that waggle back and forth when the breeze moves them, and to let my eyes follow the smooth white path of a curvy dirt road down the valley that I can only see in winter. Hiking the same hike is never boring, since it is never the same hike. Winter is magical since the light changes so often, blue sky or gray, fresh snow or day old refrozen melt. Even the way the shadows look changes.
I came home, showered before I froze, and made some great soup that is making the house smell wonderful and my belly feel warm. The cat is on my shin, and my darlin is out working hard moving snow off of our little deck.
I started the mestinon (apparently to help with suppression) this morning (with food) and start Lupron tonight. It is not so much that I am optimistic about this cycle, but I feel optimistic maybe more generally. I think it makes a world of difference to have this chance, to have a plan/direction for if this does not work, and Oh! to be DHEA free. Each day it becomes more and more obvious that DHEA was my dementor.
So, yeah. In this moment? OptimistiKate. I'll take it.