http://bonyfingeredlimbs.blogspot.com/2012/12/flash-fiction-challenges-are-back-snow.html
She unzips her sleeping bag and feels the chill sneak in around her. It seems that it is still too cold to be awake, but she has to pee. Fumbling for her coat, and finally succeeding she shivers as her arms slide into the icy sleeves. Her fleece sweatshirt is not warm enough to protect her from the cold coat. She wiggles out of her sleeping bag and grabs her snow pants. She hurries into her pants. Her socks are slightly damp from the warmth of her sleeping bag. She digs in her pack for a fresh pair before throwing the old pair over the string tied across the inside of her tent. Hurriedly, she puts on her dry socks and boots.
She is thankful that the wind stayed away for the night since it really would suck to have snow blowing into the mesh windows of her three season tent. She unzips the tent flap slowly to check out her campsite. It had been after dark when she finally made it up here. She climbs out and hurries off to pee. When she makes it back to her site she stops and looks at the snow covered hills. The early morning sun is creeping along and makes the snow glitter beautifully. She can see all the way down to the serene lake at the bottom of the hill. It looks so beautiful that she stops to watch it for a few minutes. She finally turns away and opens the camp stove on the tailgate of her truck. As she starts the burner she is thankful that she knew enough to pour her water into the pan the night before. The hot coffee was going to make her very happy in a while.
She places a cast-iron pan on the other burner and brings the temperature up slowly. Once her pan is good and hot she tosses some butter in the pan and watches it bubble as it melts. She cracks two eggs into the pan, and after they stop spreading she sticks two of the sausage links she had cooked at home the day before into the pan. The food cooks quickly and she digs quickly for the spatula in her kitchen bin. She flips the eggs and gets her coffee started with the now hot water. As soon as the food is out of the pan she sticks some buttered bread into the pan for toast.
As soon as she has cleaned up from breakfast she checks her tackle-box. She also checks her rod and reel to make sure that there is nothing wrong before she heads to the lake. She stops to look at the lake for a few seconds, and then she grabs the large jug of water and sets it where it should be in the sun the longest. She grabs her day pack with its boring dry lunch and puts her tackle-box in it.
Once the pack is on her back she grabs her rod and starts towards the trail. It is nearly a mile to the lake, but she anticipates needing almost an hour to get down to the lake because of the thin coat of ice. She loves this trail no matter what season it is. The rocks sticking out from the ice and snow make her pay close attention to the terrain. She wishes that she could just look at the ice clinging to the pine needles, and the way the stream sneaks in and out of its icy covering makes her feel relaxed and happy.
She finally makes it to the shore and takes off her pack, and then gets out her tackle-box while looking for the best place to start trying for dinner. Finally settling on an area that looks really promising to her. She stays for a while thinking how wonderful it is to be away from the noise of her family for a few days. She starts to think about trying a different location, but at that moment the tip of her rod takes a quick dip and she jerks the rod quickly while reeling in her catch. She decides to stay and quickly catches another fish. She debates staying while the fish are biting, but decides that she does not want to carry too many fish back to camp. She quickly cleans the two fish and packs them in a plastic bag.
She packs up all of her stuff and grabs her rod to head back up the hill. The hill seems so much steeper going up on the wet slush and ice. She trudges back up the hill for what seems to be a very long time, and then she realizes that she took the wrong trail. There is a moment of panic as she looks around trying to remember where she is, but the lake is still down and the trail she walked on is still there so she decides to grab lunch out of her pack and sit on the fallen tree next to the trail. She sits and enjoys looking at the lake and the trees, even if the glitter the trees had been wearing that morning is leaving. With lunch finished she grabs the rod and backpack and heads back down the way she had come. She easily finds the trail she was looking for and heads back towards her camp.
It is almost dinner as she walks into camp, but she decides to take a break to read for a while and rest from the hike up the hill. She grabs her favorite book out of the cab of the truck and sits in her camp chair. Soon she will have to cook dinner, but for now she plans on losing herself in the pages. She leans back into her chair, the chill seeping through her clothes, and she wonders what happened to the day.
She looks up from her book and realizes that if she does not start dinner soon she will be doing all of it by the light of her favorite lantern. The book goes away and out comes the cast-iron pan, three baby potatoes, and two fish. The little whoosh of the camp stove makes her smile, and the butter melting in the pan makes her mouth water slightly. The potatoes are quartered and seasoned with salt and pepper before being tossed in the pan. Once they are mostly done the two fish are nestled in the melted butter. She starts more coffee, and waits while the fish cook quickly.
She starts her dishwater heating on the stove before eating. She sits back down in her cold camp chair with a warm plate of food and hot coffee. Her food is perfectly cooked. The fish melts in her mouth, and the seasoned potatoes are buttery on the inside but crisp on the outside. She finishes her food, and washes her dishes. All of the food is cleaned up, and packed away to make sure that no animals come looking for food. She pours some water into her pan and sets it out for morning.
Exhausted from her day she heads towards her tent. She crouches down and fumbles with the tent zipper before pulling off a glove to speed things along. The cold air stings her fingers and it shocks her a bit at how much the temperature has dropped even since she had washed her dishes. She removes her other glove so she can untie her boot and loosen the laces. She takes off her coat and snow pants and places them carefully near the entrance to her small tent. The fleece sweats go on right over her thermal underwear, and she puts her socks from that morning back on. She centers her sleeping bag on the thermal pad and climbs in. She starts to fall asleep quickly, but thinks with sadness of her return to civilization in the morning.
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