Over Thanksgiving it snowed a good snow in these parts. Everyone tried to be like, boo, snow! But then we all secretly were ok with it because snow on a winter holiday is the only acceptable time and has a potent element of magic not held otherwise.
It snowed off and on for several days. The day immediately following this intermittence, we decided to take our snowshoes and sled into the mountains and find an adventure.
Which we did. There's something supremely satisfying about being in a place at the most perfect moment, in the most optimal circumstances. The universe sings such a perfectly harmonious tune upon you and you feel it. You can see it, you feel it, you hear it, you know it. I was certain that the mountain could not have been more beautiful. The snow was soft and new and not yet riddled with many visitors. Just glorious. Behold: