No Day for Daydreamers...

The sun was out and the wind just a whisper.

That's a rare thing during winter in Ohio.

Even though it was 5 degrees, I stepped into my skis and took off across the fields into the sparkling wonder.

A winter storm had glazed the existing snow cover in ice and then frosted it with more snow. Now, even two days later, much of the ice remained.

Because I ski around farm fields--that's what I have around me, I don't have to focus on tree limbs or obstacles in my path. I can just take in the winter time and let my thoughts wander.

But on this day, I discovered I'd have to pay attention to the terrain. While the fields looked snow covered, there were areas where the wind had blown the snow away, leaving patches of ice.

Though I was going just 5 miles per hour, when I hit those patches, my skis skittered and my arms helicoptered in an attempt to stay upright.

And so instead of daydreaming as much, I watched for ice and tried to keep my knees and feet closer together, and I skied on.

Because the sun was out, the wind was still, and it was a beautiful winter day in Ohio.

Different Agendas, Same Result

When we depart, I on skis, the dogs naked except for the collars around their necks, we're enthusiastic. Five inches of powdery snow, calm winds and temperatures in the teens make for excellent trekking weather.

But, when I stop to admire the frost, I realize we have different agendas.

I admire how the frost clings to the fences, and turns the pines Christmas-card perfect.

I study the weeds, looking for seeds that the birds may scavenge now that winter is nearing its end.

The dogs see no point in looking up, for their joy is under the snow. It's on the ground where they may disturb a rabbit or mouse.

And, so we move along, each taking our own walk, each enjoying the winter morning as we travel around the fields.

And though our agendas are different, we're in the same state when we reach the 1,000-foot marker, We are tired and happy and thankful for a winter walk together.

Looking for the Ideal Snow for Skiing

It turns out that the perfect snow for snowman-making is not the perfect snow for skiing.

On Saturday morning, the snow was falling in big, heavy flakes. So, I called Tag and Caeli, and we set off for the farm and pond across the road. But, when I skied up a slight incline, I ground to a halt.

The wet snow clumped under the scales of my skis. So, I stopped frequently to remove the clumps.Skied. Removed clumps. Skied.

Eventually, I returned home with two tired dogs.

But, it was a pretty morning, and the snow was falling in big, heavy flakes. So, I called Mickey and Ben, and we skied the harvested corn and bean fields. It was flatter ground, so I stopped less frequently.

We returned home, wet and covered in snow.

It rained Saturday afternoon. Then the temperatures dropped and the wind picked up speed overnight.

On Sunday morning, the snow was crunchy on top and granular beneath the surface. But it was snow -- and a chance to ski.

The wind and rain had coaxed the remaining leaves from the trees, making for a pretty pattern.

Except for a few birds in the fence rows, I saw no wildlife. I'm sure the crunchy sound I made scared them away.

And the wind rushing across the fields made the last quarter-mile feel like a mile.

But I'm grateful that when it snows, I can step outside, clip on skis and go. That always makes up for the less-than-perfect snow.