There’s something I love about winter adventures.
Three years ago, I spent a few weeks in Oregon.
Although each view was socked with clouds, it is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.
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The trees were colossal. The mountains reached to the cloud-filled heavens. The air was fresh, oh so fresh, and reviving to the soul.
Six years ago, I was wintering in Argentina and Uruguay. Four years ago, I gazed at the snow-capped Andes mountain range in Chile. Three years ago, I was riding a cable car over the rainy ridges of Medellin, Colombia. Ten years ago, I was skiing through clouds on the snowy slopes of Utah. Thirteen years ago, I met Alaska and her brisk, legendary landscape.
I guess you could say that winter adventure and I kind of have a thing for each other.
With winter approaching, the scents of decaying leaves and north winds bring back strong memories. Winter coats and pretty scarves create a longing to be outside. My boots want to trudge through the grass. My lungs want fresh air; I long for adventure!
Mornings like this are filled with the greatest potential for adventure.
And adventure is best when shared.
Around our house, the clouds are thick. The rolling Tennessee hills set the perfect view. The air is crisp and lively.
Inside the house, Damien’s sleep is filled with little snores and sighs. John is abuzz around the house, working hard and telling me his hopes and dreams. I am snuggled by pillows and filled with excitement.
Will I be riding horses, bungee-jumping in the Alps, or touching a glacier today? Thankfully not.
Rather, today will be spent with people I love, for they are my greatest adventure.
A warm breakfast with my husband, a nap with my son, and a party with friends are the perfect pairing for a crisp winter day.
There’s something quite wonderful about that.