Easter in Winter

Today’s photograph is not much, and its buried in the text of this post, where it belongs. I don’t like to ski with a big camera, so for now, its just my Blackberry. My camera hasn’t even seen the light of day since I got here. Not only have I been taking a break from the blog, but also from feeling pressured to shoot for it. Now I can’t wait to get back to making pictures and wish I liked to take the camera with me, but I like to ski too much to worry about its weight as well as protecting it if I crash.

Its kind of weird to be looking out the window at a snowy mountain, making bacon and coffee, getting ready to go skiing, on Easter. Growing up, Easter always meant dressing in fancy clothes and heading off to church before anything else. With my kids, its usually demanded Easter baskets outside of bedroom doors before anything else. I may have never not gone to church on Easter; only because it always seemed that if I wanted to make a fuss over the holiday, I should at least recognize its Christian origins.

This morning my kids asked me where their Easter baskets were. I had a few other things that required my attention in the days before leaving, so even though I thought I might get my act together to find some Easter surprises, I failed in that mission.

Its now 10pm and I survived another day of skiing with 17 year old boys. Gillian decided to take the day off, work on a little homework and “chill” in the condo.

I am laying on my back on the couch, having celebrated Easter in a highly unusual, but incredibly beautiful way. There is no place on earth where I can feel the presence of divine energy more than in the mountains, and particularly on a sunny day. We started the day off with an epic 45 or 50 minute hike out a ridge to an untracked bowl on top of the world. The top of Whistler wasn’t open yesterday and they had about two feet of new, so the bowls were still untouched. (This photo just doesn’t do it justice. I took it with my Blackberry, “blind”, standing at the bottom, waiting for the rest of our group. I couldn’t see the screen – too bright.)

First Tracks

Its hard to do much better, and nothing the rest of the day matched the thrill of a long pitch of first tracks, but it didn’t matter either, the sun was out and there was plenty of soft stuff lying around in patches and pockets. I guess that was kind of our version of an Easter egg hunt. About 2:30pm, after going all day without a break, Robby and I said good bye to his two friends, skied off into some trees, found a patch of sunshine with a view that looked out over the valley beyond, made a snow bench, and had ourselves an “Easter picnic”, which consisted of squished sandwiches and the water that he had thankfully remembered to stick in his pack. No fancy brunch in any restaurant in the world would have tasted better.

We just finished off steaks from the Okanogan ranch where we got our meat last fall. Much to Robby’s dismay, I even ate one. (He was hoping I’d leave it for him.) Reading Barbara Kingsolver’s “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle”. I feel better about eating that meat than about any I’ve eaten in a long time. Or maybe I was just so hungry that anything would have tasted good.


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