I guess growing up in SoCal gives you a warped view of snow. I have no clue what it's like to live in insanely cold places like Chicago or Minnesota or the North Pole for that matter. But for me, snow gives me a true sense of wonder. An untouched paradise. A place where magic happens.
And then, combine a wintery wonderland with Yosemite, one of the world's most sacred places--and you get perfection. To be in the Valley without thousands of other people is a precious experience in itself. But to see Half Dome graced with powder, illuminated by the last hint of the sun's fiery rays. That is perfection. To capture a reflection so absolute or a fallen long so shrouded. That is perfection.
And you can see that magic in the eyes of children. Sledding, racing downhill, illuminated with laughter and the power of endless possibilities. You can see it in the prance of paws--slipping and sliding with pure abandonment through powder. Snowshoe flight through the forest. You can feel it the love that binds us.
Mariposa Grove. Massive Sequoias grace us, withstanding anything and everything.
Snowflakes in my heart. Connecting us. Enlightening us. Preserving us.
Bringing joy that bubbles up into our consciousness.
Let it cling to us.