No road? She had specifically packed for that.
A Bag for a Short Trip
Maya stopped her snow bike beside the observation post and lifted off her helmet. Eli came out to meet her, pulling the door shut against the cold.
“You brought the large bag,” he said.
Maya eased the straps from her shoulders. “You said you wanted to draw outside.”
“I did. I thought we might walk as far as the snow fence.”
“We can. I checked with the post this morning; the path to the fence is open.”
Eli eyed the bulging rucksack. “Are we expecting to be gone for a week?”
“Only until lunch.” Maya opened the top. “Half of this is dedicated to not sitting in snow.”
She pulled out two folding pads, one blue and one orange. The orange one had a patch shaped like a star.
The Cold Part
Eli smiled, but he kept his gloved hands in his pockets.
“I nearly sent you a message,” he said. “I’m not sure I can draw for very long out there. My fingers get cold when I take my gloves off.”
“We can stay inside, if you’d rather.”
“I do want to go. The wind left these little ridges near the fence, and I’ve been trying to remember their shapes.”
“What usually helps?” Maya asked.
“Short stretches. I can draw a bit, warm my hands, and then carry on. But my pages blow about while I’m putting my gloves back on.”
Maya reached into the bag again and brought out a small drawing board with a strap across it.
“We could tuck the page under this. I can hold it when you need your hands.”
Eli ran a glove over the strap. “And would you mind writing down a few things I notice? I might forget them between breaks.”
“Only if you can read my handwriting.”
Two Seats and a Drawing Board
They walked to the fence along the open path. The snow made a dry crunch beneath their boots. Beyond the posts, wind had swept fine curves across the surface; a narrow line of shadow rested on one side of each ridge.
Maya set the pads on a sheltered patch. Eli chose the blue one, and she took the orange.
He tucked a sheet beneath the strap and drew the first long curve. After a few minutes, he slipped his hands back into his gloves. Maya held the board while he pointed out a smaller line running across the ridge.
“Write that one down,” he said. “It’s almost hidden from here.”
Maya made a note. “Almost hidden, but very important?”
“Extremely. It’s doing its best.”
They worked that way for a while. Eli drew, paused, and warmed his fingers. Maya wrote his observations in the margin and turned the board when he wanted to see the page from another angle.
Lines to Take Home
When Eli had finished the last line, they packed the board and walked back to the post. Inside, Maya poured warm tea while he pinned the sketch to the noticeboard.
“Would you like it here?” he asked. “People can see what the snow looked like this morning.”
“I’d like that. Especially the very important hidden line.”
Eli pointed to it. Beside the drawing, Maya had written: Doing its best.
As she folded the orange pad, he noticed the little star patch.
“Isn’t that your favourite?”
“It is. I patched that hole last winter.”
Eli looked at the star. “You brought your favourite.”
“I brought two,” Maya said. “That seemed the best way to make sure I had company.”
Livora Gracely ♥
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