"A nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places." -Isabelle Eberhardt
"A nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places." -Isabelle Eberhardt
I Have Learned
Aimee Geurts • Dec 17, 2022

How to Winter

I have learned 

How to Winter


I have learned

To dig my heels in

So as not to lose the ground under my feet


I have learned 

Mittens are better than gloves

So as to keep the tips of my fingers in working order


I have learned

To layer pants over long johns over wool socks

To wear a hood with a built in furry mask


I have learned

There is no bad weather, only bad clothing choices


I have learned 

How to Winter


In this frozen tundra, where winter is worse than I ever could have conjured in my imagination

And really, it's not all that bad


I have learned

Walking though the streets

In negative degrees

Makes me feel 

I am a badass


I have learned

How to winter


With my body but also my mind


I am not bothered by the cold

I am not bothered when my boots slip

Under me


I am not bothered when I walk my dog down the stairs

And glance over the snowy tops of trees

To see the reddish hue of the sunrise


Looking through the fog of my breath

Creating ice crystals in the air


I have learned

To keep frozen vegetables

Soup stock

Beans and rice


On hand for the weeks of snow days

Piled one after the other

At the mercy of the snow removal company


I have also learned

To set up flight alerts

To sunny places


Because by February?

No thank you


By Aimee Geurts 07 Feb, 2023
An Ode to Midge
By Aimee Geurts 29 Jan, 2023
A poem
By Aimee Geurts 20 Jan, 2023
In Great Circle Jaime says, “The compromise is that I’m living day to day without making any sweeping decisions.” I realize I have fallen into this way of thinking. Whispering to myself, everything is fine today. Although I do still enjoy imagining other lives, get caught up in the swell of possibility, for the first time in a long time I feel settled.  Jamie’s sister Marian says, “Is that compromise? It sounds a bit like procrastination. You don’t think you’ll go back to being how you were before, do you?” I know I won’t go back to being how I was before. I know that today. I’m not sure what I’ll know tomorrow. Reading articles about women realizing they are tired of working the corporate ladder and feel vindicated in my low-paying jobs with no benefits. When the farmer in Spain doesn’t reply to my emails about a room and board work agreement, when the Airbnb host in Greece offers me his camper van instead of his home, I decide it’s all too much and I give up. I’m not upset about it. I’m relieved. Instead, I make easy plans to see the Redwood Forest, right here in the good ol’ U. S. of A. I plan to stop in Medicine Bow, WY on my way from Denver to Bismarck next time I’m there. My next adventure is right around the corner instead of a nine-hour flight away. I make plans to make less plans. I stop looking for more jobs. The low-paying jobs I have now are quite fulfilling and they pay me enough to cover my health insurance and put a little aside. What they give me is time. Time to have lunch with my sister-in-law on her birthday. Time to take a 4-day weekend to see my new niece. Time to take a walk downtown on a Wednesday and bring Roxy a sandwich while she slings books at the low-paying bookstore where I no longer work. Time to read all the books in my house. Time to volunteer in the middle of the day. Call it compromise. Call it procrastination. I call it feeling settled.
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