525,600 minutes...and counting

Yesterday was one of those glorious days that makes Colorado springtime worth waiting for. We ran all our errands on Saturday, and in the process ended up finding a great, cheap place for breakfast burritos, eating fresh donuts from LaMar's (a Colorado institution), and buying a pineapple. The sun was out, melting away Thursday's snow. We got all our chores done on Saturday so Sunday could be a day to play, and relax, and enjoy our first anniversary of being legally married people.

It was a day of spinach, mushroom, and goat cheese omelets, of turkey bacon and freshly cut pineapple. A day of leisurely couch lounging, of preparing for yet another snowshoeing adventure (Dan still had the shoes rented, as it was his last day of Spring Break, so we wanted to take advantage.) Of driving up through Boulder and Nederland and along the Peak to Peak highway, of the Brainerd Lake recreation area, of men on cross-country skis pulling children in pods on ski runners, of dogs of every sort. A day of exploring a snowshoe-only trail, well marked until we came to this sign.

Thanks, Scarecrow, that's really helpful.

A day of frustration, as the weather was cold-hot-cold-hot up there at 10,000 feet depending on whether the sun was out or behind a cloud. Of the snowshoe trail dumping us out on a road, and frustration that we had to slog along mostly melted snow for an hour before finding the snowsoe trail again. Of discussing the merits of oval vs. teardrop shaped snowshoes, and of reaching our destination (see top photo) only to realize it was far later than we'd thought, hurriedly scarfing down luna bars, and making the decision to walk (and posthole, depending on snow depth) the road back rather than take the more enjoyable but longer and more time-consuming snowshoe trail. Of homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the car, utter exhaustion, and the desperate need for a shower before we went out to dinner.

It was a day in which every so often we'd look at the clock, and say to each other, a year ago right now, I was waking up. I was picking wildflowers for my bouquet. I was excited, nervous, happy, posing for photos. And then, at 11:48 AM Pacific Daylight Time (12:48 PM Mountain), we were married, groom kissing bride, husband kissing wife. We looked at photos from the wedding as we lounged on the couch, and at dinner we talked about all manner of things, but during our moules et frite, our salmon salad and halibut dinners, our creme brulee and chocolate mousse and wine, I kept thinking how lucky I was to have had such a wonderful day a year ago, and such a wonderful year since. At home, we removed our constrictive clothing to allow for food lumps, and popped the cork on our last bottle of prosecco left over from the afterparty.

"I am so tired," I said. "Me too," he said. "But even after everything we've done today, I'm not nearly as tired as I was a year ago right now." "Me neither," I agreed. It was the longest day, it was the best day, it was a great day, one of many we've had in the last 365.

Today I have been thinking about one of the readings included in our wedding ceremony: Union, by Robert Fulghum.

Look at one another and remember this moment in time. Before this moment you have been many things to one another – acquaintance, friend, companion, lover, dancing partner, even teacher, for you have learned much from one another these past few years. Shortly you shall say a few words that will take you across a threshold of life, and things between you will never quite be the same.

For after today you shall say to the world –
This is my husband. This is my wife.

World, he is my husband. And I am his wife. It's been a banner year.

(photo of us by my aunt Kiki)