It took me roughly six years to learn how to dress for winter. To be fair, four of those years were spent in Southern California wishing I could find snow somewhere I could go without spending three hours in traffic. Oregon has opened a lot of doors for me.

Last year I spent my entire winter learning how to fall down a mountain with a snowboard. This year, I have my own board to learn, but considering the late start to winter, I figured I had to hold off on the slopes for another week. I decided to go hiking instead and it was my first real snow hike this year so it really put me in the mood for winter. 

This morning I had no idea where I was going. I just had to go. I feel like I’ve been asleep for the past month. I’ve had little adventures here and there but nothing to really satisfy my hunger. I’m restless. Plus, I needed an excuse to go out and test my new wide-angle lens!

I’ve recently had a difficult time deciding where to go because I’ve been so focused on going somewhere new. However I’ve recently come to appreciate that new doesn’t necessarily mean a new location. Sometimes new just means a new experience. Rain, snow, hail, fog, sunshine; the weather (and the season) will drastically change your view. I’ve been to Mirror Lake a handful of times and needless to say it did not disappoint.

The lake was not quite frozen, it had the consistency of a blue vanilla slushy from 7-11. I could only think about the poor old cold crawfish and their frozen little whisker-antennae. I wonder if they are all at the bottom of the lake sleeping until the cold blows over, or the warm blows in. There were carefully placed snowballs all over the surface of the lake. Were they rocks in disguise or did they fall off a shivering tree so gently that they didn’t make a patter or a sound? Maybe snow gnomes are a thing and they can walk on water and are so light that they don’t leave footprints. Bare bushes were outlined with snow. They looked like a sea of white snakes guarding the trees. And the trees would whisper to each other in the wind and ruffle their leaves until they started a giant avalanche that would fill in the footsteps on the ground floor. I was almost attacked by the tree-avalanches but it was so quiet out in the wild that I could hear them coming from roughly 0.2 miles away.

P.S. I’m starting an Etsy store and it’s called Keri in the Wild.