Today is the last day of January, the last day before the never-ending, ridiculously long month of February begins. Despite wool socks and hiking boots, my feet were cold as I walked from building to building on campus, my parka buttoned against the winds and my hood pulled up for extra warmth. My feet are always cold. Even my office felt chilly, my fingers numb as I tried to type at my computer, and I couldn't wait to come home to sweatpants, down slippers, and a fire.
On a day like this, I like to look through my photos from summertime, especially the pictures of my parents' camp, where every photo shows tanned family members enjoying sunny weather. This photo shows Dandelion Niece, riding home in her Dad's boat, after swimming at one of our favorite islands. When I've been cold all day, I like to look at a photograph like that. I am remembering what it feels like spend hours on a rock that has gathered sunheat, the warmth penetrating my skin, my whole body heated through until I welcome the chill of the wind.