It has been months -- many, since we've visited this spot. But it feels like my favorite jeans and hoody that have not seen the wash in while. Comfy, familiar, effortless. This is our alpine backyard.
Anticipation of first turns swirl in the mind and stir butterflies all morning. Push off. Sinking into snow so fresh that it has fallen just seconds ago. Weightless. Movement. Flow. Breathe.
Storm days are exciting, yet paradoxically quiet, at least externally. Inside the swell of feeling and movement is powerful. Sometimes it boils up and vibrates vocal cords in a yelp; whoot. Silence surrounds you gliding through winter's medium. If not anywhere else, I can find zen here.
Stopping, catching breath, exchanging knowing looks. Conversation begins again after soaking in what was so desperately needed to feed the soul for the next week, until the next adventure begins. Look back up, take another glance and catalogue that moment in the body's mind.