Earlier this month, I wrote about how difficult I find the month of February, and one of my readers, kate5kiwis, said she was going to go to the beach and write my name in the sand. I loved that image.
When my four children were small, I would sometimes feel overwhelmed and frustrated by the end of the day, especially in the summer when I was home with them all the time. Often in the evenings, I'd leave them with my husband, needing to get away from the house to have some quiet to myself. I would go to Pretty Colour Lakes, and walk the trail around the lake, letting the smell of cedar and the green-blue of the lake soothe me. And then I would walk across the beach, stopping to write my name in the sand.
This winter, I've been taking my walks on roads instead of trails because a level surface is easier on my injured knee. High snowbanks edge the roads, and on windy days, the powdery snow blows across the pavement. This week, as we finally near the end of the long month of February, I stopped to write my name in the snow.