...we are mountain people. It's who we are. When fall's last leaves are scattering gracefully from drowsy trees we can nearly hear the snow approaching. We wax our skis in anticipation and wait impatiently.
Shortly after the tragedy, I couldn't imagine that we would ever be able to play in our winter mountains again. And look at us now...we not only play there, but we laugh and feel light-hearted joy. These days I can't imagine what winter would be like if we were not able to play in those same mountains.
Mountain frolicking, there is nothing quite like it. Whether it is fast groomers of corduroy, fresh deep Utah powder, or a sweet line of intense moguls.
Dropping everything and everyone, the teenager will even wake up early to come play with us in the mountains.
The Zen Master of skiing has been helping the Teenager to work on his 180's and 360's. I gifted the Zen Master a new bright orange coat for his birthday. Now when he is speeding his way down the mountain we can spot him anywhere.
Cheeseburger for lunch anyone?
Mountain friends...they come in all colors and sizes...we love them all.
This mountain friend thinks he is a rock star. He should keep his day job.
