kids in the hills

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It’s true that winter and I were once friends, a long time ago. But then, somehow, we drifted apart…

For a number of years, I donned my corporate attire, got in my car in the dark, slipped a thermal carafe of coffee into the holder, and headed south to the city for work. I didn’t mind the commute, I told myself. In fact I enjoyed it. It was time to think. Time alone. Time to decompress. Then along came baby.

My son learned more first-hand than I could have imagined about plants and animals. His garden creation was inspected daily and watered with care. “It’s magic!” he exclaimed.

Babies arrive trailing clouds of happy expectations. But often those first few months can be anything but a joyful experience. Fortunately, this region is rich in programs to help mothers cope.

As I headed to the hills every weekend for rest, relaxation and Sunday hikes, it finally occurred to me – these hills are my home. I realized it was time to head back upstream.