Into the woods

It has taken me months, but I am finally embracing the snow. Yes, it is March. And yes, it is still snowing in Cumberland. I just moved to this beautiful little village surrounded by forests and mountains. Our house has a wood stove for warmth and cosiness and this is where I spend most of my time: in front of the fire. Until my cheeks turn red and I taste like smoke. That's when I like to go on adventures in the woods, enjoying the crunching sound of snow under my feet.

It is cold outside of my blanket fort, so I wrap my body in layers of sweaters and as many socks as my shoes will allow. The house smells of fire and coffee. I love the rattling sound of the bialetti. My hands soak up the warmth of the coffee, holding the mug like a precious object. I walk outside in the early sunshine. Fresh snow covers the colourful houses in a layer of white. With every layer of snow, I add a layer of clothes. I look like the michelin man with jackets and coats and scarves as far as the eye can see.

I let the sun fill up the cup I hold tight in both hands. With every sip, I taste her rays like golden beams, waking me up for a day of adventure. My hair smells like smoky bonfire coffee from last night's beach sleep. Nature's perfume, I don't want it to leave me. Walking shoes feel worn in, memories of Canadian hikes captured on the inside.

Our backyard is the Cumberland forest. Endless vibrant green covered in a soft carpet of snow. The swamp is frozen but not enough for me to perform a fabulous piece of ice ballet. Instead I swiftly hide behind a tree, inhaling the end of winter. The birds sing happily, they are ready for a change of season. I am with them, the cold makes my bones shiver.

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