there's something about the woods in winter. i'm not really sure exactly what it is that i like so much about them. i mean, i love the woods in summer too, the full trees, the waving green leaves, the birdsong filling the air, the feeling of closeness and solitude–connection with nature. but in the winter. hmmm. the cool air. the open sky. the trees bare, revealing their underlying structure. the silence of the woods, broken only by the occasional chatter of the last squirrels hoarding for the winter, the seemingly distant calls of the few birds that tough out the cold months, the crunch of dry leaves under your feet.

during the spring and summer months, i never really think about camping all that much, but as soon as fall and winter roll around, especially winter, i really get the urge to just run off into the woods and stay there for days. i would love to just take a weekend, hike deep into the woods away from civilization, spend my days wandering around, reading a book by a stream somewhere, writing whatever thoughts enter my head, building a fire and cooking up big pots of beef stew and strong coffee, staring up at the clear night sky counting the stars, watching the smoke and embers rise and disappear while one side of my body freezes and the other cooks. i wanna wake up and see the morning fog drifting through the trees as the birds sing to me.

the only thing i can imagine that would be better than this, would be having someone there to share it with. someone to sit close to, more to be near each other than to share warmth. someone to point out the little things that give me wonder, someone with whom to share my joy.