I found a chair on craigslist, and it’s become the seat of choice in our home.
Tephra nestles in when the boy is asleep or outside. Our occasional nanny, Courtney (“Kiki” in Sylvanese), spends some hard-earned minutes reading there when Sylvan is napping. And I can sit in the chair with my legs outstretched and have only my ankles and feet hang off. And the best part is that the pillow Mom made for us last year was obviously created just for this chair, which happens to be of reupholstered Barnes and Noble vintage. I’ve rarely spent $25 so well.
I convinced Chris that we needed to play in the snow last weekend, so we rented a cabin in Lapine State Park from Friday to Sunday. All the “deluxe” cabins were taken, which is a boon for the park but a bummer for procrastinators. Okay, it’s not so bad; the “rustic” cabins have lights, heat, and two full beds – not exactly rustic, except when compared with the bathrooms complete with showers; kitchens with sinks and refrigerators; two rooms; and big TVs with DVD players in the deluxe cabins. All for just $10 more a night than the rustics. Honestly, I prefer the rustic cabins. Really. Otherwise, I’d feel like going home was roughing it. I would have preferred to have two rooms, though. With Sylvan’s schedule a tad off, he screamed and said, unhappily, “Dad-dy” or “Mom” into the darkness a bit too much for my taste.
On 
Saturday, we cross-country skied at Swampy Lakes Sno-Park. I gained new respect for Chris’s skiing abilities and lack of fear of falling on our child. It hasn’t snowed in weeks, so the trails were slick and bumpy, and we’d chosen those conditions for our first ski with baby on back trial. My adrenaline junkies both loved it. Sylvan especially enjoyed the last descent, a teeth-chattering trail chewed up by weeks of skiers and snowshoers that tilted slightly to the right. I’m buying a sled for Sylvan so that I don’t have to ski behind them, just hoping that Chris doesn’t lose control and squash the boy.
Sylvan spent the weekend asking to go outside so he could crunch in the snow. That’s exactly the type of behavior I’m trying to encourage.
On Sunday, we stopped
on the way home to snowshoe at Willamette Pass. The clear, cold conditions allowed a feathery layer of surface hoar frost to grow in areas protected from the wind. I’m no avalanche expert, but these gorgeous, light crystals, when buried, become a weak point in the snowpack, and Pacific Northwest avalanches often occur when heavy layers above just slough off the hoar frost layer. (Click on the photo to see the frost more closely)
The mountains were out all weekend: Diamond Peak, Bachelor, South Sister, Broken Top, Maiden Peak. This is Odell Lake from the west end, the spot to which Tom, Chris’s Dad, skied (snowshoed?) with us a few years back; that’s Odell Butte, a little over 7000 feet, beyond the lake. We’ve never seen Odell Lake so frozen; snow has collected in the ice’s waves, and past icy shorelines are visible throughout the lake. I shouldn’t be surprised that the lake is almost completely frozen, since, currently, at 10:24 p.m., it’s 18 degrees Fahrenheit at Willamette Pass, and it’s been like this for weeks: no rain, no snow, just stars and cold air. I love it. As much as I love Eugene, I’m hankerin’ for Rockies weather.