Snow!

Seventeen days in Breckenridge. And it has snowed on nearly every one of those days. Snow. The kind that's big and wet and juicy. The kind that sticks in your hair and melts on your tongue. Snow. The kind that's pellets pinging on your coat and bouncing on the frozen ground. The kind that's fairy feather light, or winter whirling psychedelic into your windshield. The kind that fills the whole world white. Snow!

We wake up in the middle of the night and peek through the blinds, whispering to each other, "it's snowing,"as if it is something mysterious and secret and ours alone. We take out our phones and take pictures and get back in bed smiling. In the morning there is a fresh thick layer over everything, and when we step outside we are the first ones in the untouched universe, making footprints before anyone else is up.

Everything is muffled and magical and I feel like I'm ten years old,

tromping through the snow in the first boots I have owned in thirty years.

We take the dogs to Boreas Pass. We're running and playing and falling into drifts. I'm a kid, and every thought has left my brain. And if ever there is a time when I am in the moment it is now,
frolicking in the snow with the two big labs on this crisp cold Colorado day.
And it feels like Christmas and it feels like life and it feels like everything.

Boreas Pass, Breckenridge, Colorado