This year, for the first time since 1962, we had snow fall on Christmas day; a teaser for what was yet to come. A few days later the news forecasted up to 36 inches to blanket the Cascades. Knowing how much I enjoy tromping in the snow, my daughter Amy phoned to invite Alistair and I on a snowshoeing trek. Within twelve hours she and her partner Michelle bundled us into their car, shoved lattes and McMuffins into our hands and drove us to our frozen destination. The excitement was palpable. It took real effort on my part to try and maintain some equipoise.
Once we found the trailhead and strapped on our snowshoes we headed into the forested landscape. The climb was steep. I expected we’d catch our breaths and chatter once we rounded the peak’s corner, yet instead of conversation, everything muted; color softened and sound dampened. Even the songs of the birds seemed clipped of unnecessary gaggle. Enveloped in natures calm I felt cooled to the bone.