And on cue, winter has come to town. The mountains are covered in the thick quiet blanket of white that somehow also shrouds the place in a brooding mysticism. I love it like this.
Tom and I were swimming in the water off Ruby Island on New Year’s Day and I clearly recall how we both stopped for a moment and thought about how almost unimaginable it is that in just a few short months that the water will become inky and impenetrable and the mountains will draw closer and return to the indigo silence of winter.
Before I knew it – it has happened.
Tom is in Sydney after finishing his Rolfing course. Our lives seem to scatter so easily now in this brave new world of affordable air travel. Rae of Light and Fraser and John are in London. Bevan is in the states. Adam is winding his way back in the direction of Helsinki. Andrea remains in Sydney and Ben in New York. Stephen is there too. Rob is god-knows-where. Julia is anywhere at anytime.
Where I am is running along the road in the lee of Coronet Peak with Tim (ahead of me). I like where I am. As Cilla McQueen says in her poem To Ben, At The Lake, “The world is holding me up very well today”.