Skiing Suburbia

You've probably heard of the blizzard of '66, and of '77.

You may have survived the ice storm of '91.

But now it's time for

THE MINOR INCONVENIENCE OF 2020 !!!

Finally, some snow.  Time to slap on the skis and explore the big back yard, provided by Ridgemont Country Club.

Not a lot of golfers today.

The camera catches the limbs catching the snow.

It's not like skiing in the woods.
It's difficult to smack into a tree.

But you can really see the individual trees
apart from the forest.

The white pines are particularly good at snagging passing snow.

Even with the ice deposited by the previous evening's freezing rain.

Too high for the deer,
perhaps the fermented drops
will get the deer high in the spring.

In the creek,
ice flows as snow falls.

A wind-blown limb
makes its mark in the snow.

It's a glorious day.
Old Glory is flapping for my eyes only,
and now for yours as well.

A trail through the trees is preferred on a windy day.

The semi-random texture of the drifting snow is a sight to behold,
but one's tracks don't last long against the wind driven snow.

Such is life!

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Addendum

Though beautiful, breaking trail through the wind driven snow was a bit of a slog.  Wimpy knees prefer a slicker surface.

The following day, the wind was gone, and lovely large flakes fell gently to the ground.  The skiing surface was delightfully slippery, and the skier parted the flakes with pleasure.

Uphill or downhill or on the flat.
All great!

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Addendum 2

The day after that combined fine skiing conditions with bright sun and blue sky.  

It was a "Great to be Alive" Day!

Don't forget that SPF 2000 !!!

The Trifecta

The first day, there was enough snow to ski.  Mary and I took advantage of the opportunity.

Lots of snow in the air makes for and off-white day.
The low mountains beyond are invisible.
Skiing across the lake is not an option.

Far enough for this day.

The second day, there was a lot more snow.  Mary and I took advantage of the conditions with our snowshoes.

Mary is in great shape and not afraid of breaking trail uphill,
which was not for the faint of heart with all that snow.
It was more like corn meal than powder,
spilling onto the top of the snowshoes with every step.

This still life is called,
"Snow-laden hemlock with old guy."

There she goes!.
Time to put the damn camera away and catch up.

The third day, we hit the trifecta.  Copious snow, bitter cold, and high wind.

The lake was completely frozen,
with the wind driving the sub-zero air and abrasive snow crystals
 across the open expanse.
A great day to be alive!

"There is no bad weather," I declared.
"Only bad clothing!"
Attired for the cold, I was ready to go skiing.
"You're nuts!" declared Mary.

The chickadees did not impugn my sanity.
The feeder was filled prior to skiing.

They waited patiently as I finished the job
before I set out, upwind along the lake shore.
Into the wind first is a good policy.
Best to come home with the icy wind at your back.

The goal was the point about 3/4 of a mile away.
Almost there, this is the path to the interior.
The shelter of the trees was appreciated.
Even good mittens can produce thumbsicles!

Can't be sure about the thermometer reading,
but it wasn't far off.

The hemlocks on the edge of the clearing
made reaching the goal worthwhile.

Heading back on the broken trail was a breeze.
30 MPH is much better on your back.

Back out on the frozen lake, a short pause provided an observation. The ridges of the drifted snow perfectly matched the undulations of the low-hanging clouds, as both receded into the distance.

I don't think he noticed.