66 degrees in Massachusetts on January 6. If it had to be a day so freakishly warm as to kindle niggling unease about Mother Nature’s sanity, I’m glad it was a Saturday.
We walked on crowded trails in the Noanet Woodlands, laughing about how just last week we literally froze our faces off in Maine. We also plotted to pillage the inevitable “Going Out of Business” sales that will be plaguing New England ski shops this spring. I loved watching the horses graze on the farm that adjoins the reservation, also reveling in the weather’s aberrance.
He is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts. – William Shakespeare, Henry V
