Today I am cheering for a rodent. Not the squipmunk of tales past, but the groundhog. Today, Puxatawney Phil neglected to see his shadow – which is kind of amazing considering all of the lights from the TV cameras, mobile devices and paparazzi, but still, no shadow equals an early winter. Something that makes me very, very happy.

I should mention that my very best friend and regular hiking buddy loves snow and winter weather. She starts to drool around October usually smearing the windows with spit as she constantly monitors the weather in case of a stray snowflake. The second it falls, she is on social media screaming about the first snow day for all to hear. Many hate her joy for winter, but the truth of the matter is that she has learned to see the joy in all things – even 110 inches of snow in a week’s time. Why? More play time. More time to hang on the local hiking trails with her snowshoes. More new people to meet.

If the conditions are really rocking they’ll be ice – which leads to pictures of her hanging off of ice walls pick ax in hand or sporting crampons or micro spikes at the top of the whites of New Hampshire. Me, I’m a summer girl. A beach bum, but there is something magical about winter too. Something I never would have seen without my crazy friend.

In the winter, you can don all the clothes you own, pack a backpack full of “supplies” and stick spikes on your feet and suddenly your out doing battle with Mother Nature and a hiking trail. Before you know it, you’re dripping sweat, dancing to happy Greek music and bouncing like Tigger across the ice covered rocks. As you do this, make sure your feet are shoulder width apart and your knees are bent or you WILL fall, and it WILL hurt. Trust me. She’ll laugh, refuse to look or fling a “you okay back there” over her shoulder as she glass-ides down the trail at top speed. By now, you are likely wearing nothing but a short sleeve shirt and swearing at her in ten different languages, but it will be worth it.

The good news? You know she can save you because she holds certifications in all forms of outdoor rescue. You go down, she’ll be first on the scene. She’s rescued many from death – the most notable being the man who fell off a 70 foot rock wall leaving part of his head on the ground – he survived and is thriving because she was literally on the scene when it happened. Lucky man.

The view at the top is nothing short of stunning and I would never have had the privilege of viewing ice encrusted trees at the peak of the storm without her happy Snoopy dance and insistence that winter is a time to live large and not just endure. I’ve been to the top of 7 peaks 4ooo feet or higher, many low peaks, sledding and skiing because she refused for me to sit on the couch while she was out playing. One of my daughter’s happiest memories is spending an afternoon inside of her man made ice house with hot chocolate and cookies. I think she was two then, but she’s never forgotten. My daughter, too, likes winter.

It’s bee a sad season for my bouncy friend – nothing worse than a Tigger without a bounce – but she manages to find joy in the fact that she hikes 70 miles a week while the rest of us mere mortals will average 10. She’ll head to the whites on any occasion with all of her gear and all of her spikes and find strangers to play with her. No need, she’s amassed quite a following right here, and we are all becoming her fellow winter warriors. No longer seeking only the light of summer, we are also seeking the light of each day that we are left alive to breathe air. Life is to be lived and loved regardless of the weather, but I’m still chalking one on the groundhog’s side today – Puxatawney Phil for the win, but I’ll still strap on the spikes and head to the hills when the weather turns next week.