The Nap

The Nap

On a warm, summer day I think it only fitting to reflect on a winter afternoon. An afternoon with no equal.

It is a winter without much snow but winter nevertheless. It is a warm day with the temperature around twenty degrees as I load my things in the truck, preparing for an afternoon of wood cutting and hauling. My destination is an aspen grove on the other side of the mountain. On the trip I drive past a herd of elk. A few rise to their feet casually. Hunting season has past and without fear most just watch me drive by, not wishing to be disturbed. The elk, like most living things in this high country know the importance of taking advantage of soaking up the life-giving southern sun on a winter day.

When I get to the grove of trees I take some extra time to digest the day and all my good intentions grind to a halt. It seemed as though a spell had been cast. The wind is dead calm and all is quiet. How can I possibly destroy the moment by starting a chainsaw? Instead I sit down on the remnants of the now dormant grass of the past summer. Like the elk, I soak up the warming rays of the sun. For a time, all thoughts of winter are gone. The panorama spread in front of me is one of several valleys leading up to a range of mountains that make up a portion of the continental divide. They stand in sharp contrast to the crystal clear, blue sky, broken only by the faint con trails of highflying jets. As I lay down, my winter clothes insulate me from the frozen ground.

I don't know how long I napped because for a while time did not exist. When I opened my eyes everything was the same and yet all was new. The spell still had a hold on me and I knew I wouldn't be taking wood home that day.

A brief winters nap that fed my body and soul, might never be repeated, but will forever be remembered.