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Powder Dreams

By Ann Driggers

Under the cover of darkness the snow fell in thick folds, piling high, light and deep on a cold windless night. And I sleep, dreaming of the beauty and joy of powder skiing and what the next day might bring. As dawn breaks, the alpenglow illuminates the high peaks etched against a sapphire sky and the earth lies quiet and heavy enveloped in a fresh blanket of glittering white. The promise of a bluebird powder day is born.

 

As we climb, plowing our way through the knee-deep snow, flakes tumble gently from the sky, like feathers delicately landing on my eyelashes and in marshmallow clumps in the aspen boughs. The storm is clearing and wisps of clouds float through the valleys and drift around the mountaintops. Deep in the forest the air is still, cold and brittle, and my breath is a frozen swirl in the pewter light. A frosty sunbeam streams through the thick evergreens and suddenly the space becomes luminous, filled with floating sparkly pixie dust and I am thinking it is enough to be just there, in the mountains traveling through this kaleidoscope of color and light.

Still there is more to come, as a pristine canvas of virgin velvety powder awaits. After topping out we rip skins from skis and glide silently downwards beneath laden stands of old growth trees and into the open glades. We carve arcs through the silken meadows and cold smoke roils up our chests, whirls around our heads, and sprays frothy plumes in our wake. In the eddy that follows, spindrift swirls and slowly settles. A hushed sigh is the only sound, a mere echo of the passing skier.

 

It is here where time stands still, suspended. There is nothing more than being in that very moment. Life is both amplified and focused in the bright magical space when floating between the sky and snow, dancing weightless through a blur of blue and white and, beneath my feet, feeling the rhythm of my turning skis. This is where my dreams become reality. And the reality of powder skiing on this day will become my future dreams.


 

Photos of James Lindenblatt (in blue) by myself. Photos of me (in orange) by James. 

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