How I wish you were with us last night. The forest was still and quiet, the moon brilliant—with glorious Jupiter riding shotgun, and a troop of clouds danced in the glow. Down on Earth, the snow reflected the sky, and my headlamp was only on in the denser pine groves.
My ice cleats bit into the crust with every step, making it sound like I was chewing cereal. At moments, I apologized for the affront of noise—to the trees, sleeping squirrels, and whoever else we were disturbing. But when I stopped, and you’ll see this in all our videos, Samwise and Emily also automatically stopped—the peace sang.
It was 20 degrees, but without even a tickle of breeze, it felt warm enough that when we reached an open area by the pond, where a choppy (kinda) beach led to the iced surface, Samwise wanted to sit and take the night in. So we stayed there happily watching the clouds, some flirting with the moon, and we reveled in a sense of agape.
All was right with the world. Rarely do any of us get to feel th…
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