So we used to do. These walks became welcome breaks from studying and working, in those graduate-school Iowa winters. Miss T and my sister and brother-in-law and I went out where the high banks and the thick ice would invite us in, and on.
We followed the tracks of cross-country skiers. The paw prints of other dogs, the boot prints of other hikers. We put our own prints in new snows.
Climbed fallen trees and ducked beneath their branches. Saw our breath turn to fog.
We loved winter. How it opened new terrain. How it made the river a favorite hiking trail.