I’ve mentioned a number of times that I am a second generation Southern Californian; there were four of us kids, not a lot of money…playing outside didn’t cost anything…growing up on the edge of the desert meant bare, naked feet most of the year ’round. After college graduation (University of California, Riverside – Go Highlanders!), and caught up in the whirlwind of young love and the spirit of adventure, my now-husband and I drove the old VW bus from California to Maine…we ended up in downtown Boston (across the street from Fenway Park) and I began my education into that brrrrr’y season called winter.
Winter is cold, sometimes VERY cold. Normal people wear socks and boots and slippers except in the shower during the winter months. I have tried, I really have. I own four pair of boots (rain, snow, dressy tall and dressy short) and now, 37+ years later, I usually wear said boots when going out. However, even I have my limits. My feet are happiest naked. When indoors, bare feet are my norm. Summers, bare feet are my norm unless I’m going somewhere…then, whatever goes on my feet needs to slip on and off easily. But winter is another matter.
All this is to say that I am trying to change my ways. My feet still feel suffocated in socks, especially when the socked feet are booted. But it just isn’t practical (or comfortable or common sensical???) to still be walking the dog in the wee hours or clicking my early morning photos whilst my naked feet slip on ice or sink into snow. It was 9 degrees outside this morning when I took the photos below…and I slipped my non-stockinged feet into my woolly boots before I stepped through the sliding glass door onto the deck…now who says it is too late to teach this old dog new tricks?
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