are never far away as the season slowly kicks off.
Keep your face always towards sunshine and shadows will fall behind you.
Walt Whitman
Images like this bring back memories of the most blissful of days. Gliding slowly uphill, keeping a close eye out for fresh powder, pristine and as yet unblemished by those who worship at the church of the chair.
Some may say the idolatry is blasphemous but for one who pays homage to snow in all of its forms I can only say “How much closer to God can you be?” On this day I can recall the silence, it was a day of such bountiful beauty that the spoken word seemed intrusive. It was a day for silence broken only by the whir of the chairlift and the hiss of the board as it slid its way through the fresh snow.
Children of the snow…church of the chair and as a good friend would tell me “When it’s this deep, keep your tip up!”
As she disappeared down through the trees following a line spotted from the chair, I can still hear her laughter pealing like church bells through the silence…
it's (almost always) about the water... 