I’m not a big fan of snow.
I think I liked it for a little while when I was a kid. I remember making a neighborhood tunnel out of snow. I remember feet upon feet upon feet of snow growing up. (Though it could have bee 8 inches because everything from childhood seems to be larger than life.)
The first time I visited Steamboat Springs, I was in 4th grade (my son’s age now) and I was on a girl scout trip to learn how to ski. My sunglasses were teal Rayban knock offs, and my mom sent me with strawberry chapstick to keep my lips from chapping. Never mind my face being burned. I slept in the gymnasium, and my leader was a snorer. I still have the postcard I bought there, it hangs on my postcard board. It was one of the few times I left home alone as a child without my parents.
This year, on the annual snow trip (destinations change from year to year and after this year’s driving conditions, I’m going to vote on a warmer climate….) the snow was epic.
That’s the only way I can describe it.
It was more than I had ever seen there. Truly a white magical wonderland. Until you step in it and you land yourself in thigh high snow. And then I don’t think it’s magical anymore. And I need a bath.
But the snow there is different than it is where I live. It’s calm. And it stays in one place. And you can go out and play in it for longer periods of time. And so we did.
As usual, I didn’t take near enough photos, but I did get a few epic ones that I loved…..