I remembered a book I read when I was little by this man named Aldous Huxley. And besides all the speculative parts of it (his society doubled in on itself), I remember more reading about him once saying his father said walking in the mountains is like churchgoing. These days, I think I understand the sentiment. Even if it's still cold - I'm happy about it, being out in the wilderness. Feeling like I could melt right into the trees and the shadows. Feeling the generosity of the mountain when it yields up riches for us.
And to think, I probably took enough sap from the big old maples I found to keep us in syrup and other things for a while. Tapping was a skill we never really had at home (didn't have need for it, really) but I wouldn't mind trying to make some molasses out of the dregs of all this. Cause when you got molasses, you got molasses cookies. And with the holidays just passed - well, we're late. But better late than never.
Veronica? You like molasses?
Speaking of holidays, I heard bells a couple times today. Strange, right? But I was probably getting close to one of those Grounder encampments and it makes sense they'd use those bells for communication.
None of this is learning to control powers, I know. But what it is? Learning to be happy in your own skin and the ground under your feet. Right now, I'm satisfied with that.