Recently, in an interview, I was asked what winter is about for me.  What winter is to me has changed over the years.  It used to be about skiing and skating and winter sports and snow and loving the cold but the fire season has changed all of that for me, and our geographical location has changed winter for me, too.  When we lived in Pocatello, I used to drive a quick 15 minutes to nordic ski in the timber on Scout Mountain in the Mink Creek area.  It was wonderful.  I even skied up there in the night, with a headlamp and the dogs — which I CRINGE at now — I was mountain lion bait but I survived and I’m thankful for that.

Now that I live in one of the most temperate areas in Idaho, snow is hard to come by.  I ski the wintering grounds up from our farm and Sun Valley when the snow is good and time permits but winter isn’t really about skiing anymore.  These days, in winter, I’m concerned with exploring in the studio because I don’t have much time for rabbit trails in the summer when I’m farming and gardening.  Winter is a time of creative freedom for me.  Winter is also for making memories.  I just want to be with Robbie and have a beautiful time with him.  I want to keep it simple.  I want to squeeze every moment out of every day we have together before the fire season begins again and we get ripped apart.

Today we did that.  We made memories.  We squeezed every minute out of the day.  We hauled up to the wintering grounds (which are just a skip away from the farm).  We saw some incredible bachelor herds of elk.  We rode through miles of undulating sagebrush.  We stopped for a picnic lunch and a fire — elk hotdogs with kraut and all the trimmings.  We rode some more.  Our horses went beautifully.  By the time we reached the truck and trailer again our hands and feet were cold and we were glad to have the day over with.

It was simple.  It was beautiful.  I just want to live my life and live it well.  Sometimes all of this other stuff inhibits that simple desire of mine and I have to get scrappy and fight for simplicity and purity.  Fighting for simplicity seems counterintuitive.  Simplicity should be the foundation of our lives, at the very heart of our existence, but we get thrusted into warp speed by this modern world of ours.

Do you know what I want?  I want to put on jeans and a hat, saddle and ride my horse through miles and miles of sagebrush, cook an elk hotdog over a fire, hang out with my dogs and my fella, watch the sky roll by, think about things that matter and brush off the things that don’t.  Simple.