The soil was packed and pocked. With temperatures in the 20s yesterday morning, it was anything but springy, but I could tell it had been malleable enough the day before to cast a boot print or two.

Mud quick frozen and crunchy beneath the feet. A living thing, expandable and contractable. Not just a surface but a presence.

For weeks I’ve been hoofing it on pavement, sticking to the sides of paved roads, dodging snow piles and black ice. But yesterday, for a few minutes, I pounded a dirt trail. It felt good to walk on earth again.