Rain, Memory, and the Towpath

I open my eyes this Sunday morning with visions of frost, ice, and snow. In my half-waking thoughts, I am already on the hills, already scanning white ridgelines, wondering which peaks might carry us today. A glance outside, however, alters everything in an instant, for the rain has returned. The ambition of adventure is not extinguished—only reshaped.

4–5 minutes to read