"It's negative 13 degrees outside right now, you might have a snow day" are words that I never imagined waking up to on a regular weekday morning. Forever used to the default of California warmth, what a jolting reality of winter it has been.
Matt and I made a trip up to Keystone together for a morning of skiing, and how quick my breath was taken away. Yes, literally, because it was so dry and cold--but figuratively speaking too, as the sight of the mountains captivated my heart like that of a child on Christmas morning. The snow is different here. Not sticky and wet, or icy and hard, like what I found myself learning to navigate as a beginning snowboarder in California's limited winter landscape, but dry and just waiting to be fluffed up, waiting to be swiftly passed through, making turns and edges not as scary to take--a snow that builds my confidence as I take to it strapped in a board, bundled up head to toe, racing down the mountain.
"Its negative thirteen," is never what I thought I'd hear right before I had to get out of bed, and drive to work. But never did I imagine I'd live just an hour away from mountain top beauty with a white layer of winter that dares me to race down its slopes. I'll take negative numbers any day, if it means views above pine trees reaching towards cotton candy strands of white and snow that goes fluff.
