Patagonia, April/May 2015.

Autumn time, the trees are those colors reminiscent of home in fall, or months and a year ago in Colorado. Walking, leaves scrunch underfoot, each step pushing down into the dirt tattered pieces of that carpet. The sun crests low in the sky each day. Breakfast generally happens once it’s light enough out that surely the sun must be up, but we’ll sit outside by the stove warming coffee and it’ll still be an hour before sunlight actually reaches and warms us. Paul pronounced a few weeks ago, “There’ll be a time when the sun comes out but it’s not actually warm.” We’re not there yet, but we’re getting close.

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