Barbara Delinsky

1/19/2022: Hi, all! Heading into 2022, I'll post book updates here, so do check back. In the meanwhile, I'll be regularly sharing photographs from my INSTAGRAM account:
https://www.instagram.com/barbaradelinsky/ (just click - you don't have to have an IG account to see my postings!).

A note from Rachel at BadRedhead Media (Barbara's social media manager):

January 2022: Hi everyone! Feel free to contact me anytime if you need anything. Please follow Barbara on IG to see her updates going forward.

Barbara Delinsky (@barbaradelinsky) • Instagram photos and videos 5,544 Followers, 206 Following, 1,893 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Barbara Delinsky ()

The boardwalk at Broadmoor is always a destination. In summer, the snow on the right is open water, home to turtles, frogs, and waterlilies. In winter, well, you see it here. The waterlilies have died off, but the turtles and frogs, while not quite hibernating, are nestled comfortably on mud at the bottom of the river.

Don’t know as that appeals to me. But the lines and light on the surface sure do.

Clinging. Holding on. Hanging in there.

It’s what we do to survive. These leaves won’t make it, but we will. Spring will come. (At least, that’s what I’m hanging on for today, with temps in single digits and wind chill in the minuses.

Stay warm this Saturday!

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It was comical, yesterday’s hike around Walden Pond.

Given the snow we had Friday and the cold that set in afterward, the path was bound to be icy. So I put crampons on my boots, not the easiest thing, as it takes a lot of pulling and tugging around those sharp steel spikes. We bought them last winter for pandemic winter walking, and they were a godsend — inexpensive and effective, if a bit clunky.

For the last reason (likely a bit of macho also), my husband chose not to wear his yesterday. “The path will be clear,” he said with a dismissive wave and a wry look at my feet, like my crampons were total overkill.

Thirty seconds on the path proved him wrong. Since the trail is narrow and I’m the pacesetter, I strode on ahead, realizing only after a bit that he wasn’t behind me. I stopped and looked back. Waaaaay back. He was slipping and sliding, struggling even with the help of the spiked walking sticks we’d brought.

Whether out of male pride or what, he refused to turn around and go back. So we (he) slipped and slid around the entire lake. Our usual 45-minute walk took an extra 20. But, y’know, it was beautiful being outdoors, there was no one else on the path, and my husband admitted at the end that my instincts had been right.

Crampons today. Definitely.