I woke up this morning to early light shimmering from a mountain lake, reaching through big glass windows to the couch where I was curled up with a pillow and blanket. Only coals and ashes remained in the big stone fireplace next to me.
I was up late last night, playing games around a wooden table with eight of my women friends, all of us relaxed after a day of hiking in a cold wind, talking non-stop, and of course, eating. Whenever I go away with my friends, they bring huge quantities of delicious, homemade food. We ate steaming squash soup with curry, squares of garlic bread with hot tomato dipping sauce, thick white bean soup, carrots and red peppers slathered with hummus, carrot salad made with mashed cashews and raisins, cold beet salad, steamed asparagus, tacos with refried beans and mounds of chopped lettuce, vegan lasagna, pasta with pesto, wedges of ripe canteloupe, slices of orange, squares of mango, dark chocolate bark, and many cups of herbal tea.
I ate so much that when I woke up this morning, I wasn't even hungry. So instead of heading into the kitchen for breakfast, I slipped on my sneakers and put on my winter coat. Yes, my winter coat. We'd gotten snow. The wind had blown the snow into patterns on the beach, filling the frozen footsteps. I stepped out of the warm cabin that smelled of woodsmoke and soup, and into the cold fresh air of morning.