The mist moves in

Nothing huge today. Just a nice, contemplative, cough-filled uphill jaunt in the misty sleet with two of my best buddies in the world, Zuma and Sasha. The leading edge of what might be the last snowstorm of the season?  (ha!)  The pellet-like sleet creating a pattern on the ground, like powdered sugar spilled on a carpet. Wetness everywhere, the trees dripping, the snowdrifts rotting, the rocks glistening, the downed logs a dark teak brown, slick, organic. It felt like the moisture was coming up as well as down. My wind pants, getting wet, seeping through my long johns, my coat soaked but doing its job of keeping the water out. Hair matted outside my sponge-like hat, wool gloves a lost cause on wetness. And the creek...the lifeblood of May...brown, gurgling, rising, getting ready for the onslaught in the coming two months. Spencer Mountain bliss.  What can I say?  I like my pack and I like my territory.