bellascribe

It took four or more hours to get down the mountain today. Yesterday, going to Steamboat Springs, it wasn’t snowing. Sometime overnight it snowed and then began again late afternoon during the drive down — in a (borrowed) car with tires that could have been better. The sky was a thousand shades of dark. (There was “midnight blue”: a Crayola name for one color I loved much, age 4 or 5 and on.) This evening I have been safe and sound and warm in my room in Boulder, looking forward to exploring the town and the trails tomorrow and reading (Sontag’s In America) and thinking that I don’t want to go home, and I may not, and thinking that I don’t know where I want to go, or to be, yet.