gusts swirling old snow
dark clouds in metalic sky
frigid breath taunting
|Ski runs of Keystone Mountain in distance, taken from Peak 10, Breckenridge Ski Area|
Each night hoping for snow, I wake to a paltry dusting swirling on gusts, blowing from peaks, whiting out the forest. Today, it seems prudent to sit by the fire, read, and watch the wind play with the snow. I'm still putting moisturizer on the frostbite I got yesterday, my skin looking coarse and chapped on my cheeks. The dry, cold winds of winter at altitude are not a gal's best friend. Only a blizzard would compensate for the harsh treatment of winter's icy breath.
I'm musing and observing while participating in