No matter what the calendar says, it’s still winter in the mountains. When I woke up this morning in the beautiful camp that belongs to a friend's sister, I could see snow falling on the frozen lake outside my window. I dressed quickly for an early morning walk.
I should have worn snowshoes. The icy crust along the top of the drifts of snow was beginning to melt. I walked along for a couple of yards and then sunk in until the snow was thigh-high. I struggled out, got to the top of the snow again, and made it a couple more yards before sinking in again. It took me awhile to make it to the shore of the lake, where I stopped to rest and take photos of the blue-and-white scene.
By the time I got back to the camp, my pants were sopping wet from the melting snow. I stepped into warmth that smelled of coffee and toast. My friends were making breakfast.