Ode to Lester Park

In the heat wave of 21 degrees on Monday, we headed out for a cross-country ski at dusk, along the lit trails of Lester Park.

Lester Park was the biggest and best surprise of moving to our new house in Duluth. One July afternoon I went out for a run to the city park nearby. "City Park" in Duluth = 12+ kilometers of trails for biking and hiking, two rivers, old bridges, white-tailed deer, and the extraordinary ability to disappear in balsam fir, white spruce, cedars and birch. After an hour of traipsing trails I arrived back home and called Mark, breathless, "You'll never guess what's in our backyard...."

On Monday evening, we made our way through the fresh snow, glowing opal in the hue of an overcast sunset. For a bit we skied side by side, our baby laughing as he watched me striding with poles. I don't know what he thought we were stuffing him into the backpack for every weekend, but now he knows. For the last half of the trail, as we glided down in fresh powder, most of the trail was dark, the woods still except for the soft thump of snow falling from high-up balsam branches, and two owls cooing to each other.

Some winter nights are perfect, and meant to be lived outside.

Other nights are meant to stay inside. We now launch into the annual January freeze: this week, high temperatures around 2, lows around -20.

I don't think we have enough hand warmers to justify taking the kid out in this.