Today Karen and I hiked four miles above Squilchuck State Park. The trail was thick ice. Even with micro-spikes, Karen, 71, slipped and fell hard twice. Badly bruised her elbow.

"I'm walking on the side of the trail on dirt, pine needles and soft snow," I told Karen. "Our micro-spikes can't bite into this rock-hard ice." Then she walked safely beside the trail. Where the trail was wall-to-wall ice, we walked on the hill above.

Karen and I gathered long, green Ponderosa pine needles for her to make baskets. Green needles bend easily. We chose trees that had blown down. Don't want to injure a live tree.

We decorated Karen's little nature shrine that she started several years ago in a burned-out tree stump. Other hikers add to it, too. Her rule is to use what's on the ground.

I felt delighted to see an open meadow with Aspen trees growing (light-colored bark). Webster's defines Aspens as "a tree with fluttering leaves." Aspen trees propagate by underground shoots. They are interconnected.

This area was selectively logged for fire protection. Glad the Aspens were untouched.