Tracking Bejeweled Mounds Of Powder Snow

Dawn brakes crisp as the thermometer hovers just above zero degrees. Half asleep, coffee in hand, I want to feel for myself. But the sliding glass door to the deck resists my tug...frozen tight in the closed position. 


It takes two hands and both legs to wrench it open enough for me to slip through. Suddenly I hit with an Aqua Velva slap-to-the-face...shocked awake by a sudden, 70 degree uppercut to the chops.

The plan for the day is to head up Red Mountain and snowshoe. Hmmm. If it's Zero in Lovely Ouray, I wonder what it will be at 11,000 feet. 
Please God, don't let the wind blow today. 

I question whether or not I can get away with wearing shorts...

A CDOT snowplow lumbers through town, a dozen or so blue strobes pierce dawn's reluctant beginning. The plow's heavy steel blade shatters morning calm like fingers on a blackboard, grating up a racket as it shaves skims of ice from pavement frozen hard as granite.

Having enough cold fresh air to raise goosebumps on top of goosebumps, I desert the deck for the warmth of a hearth-fire and glowing laptop screen. The Weather-Guessers forecast nary-a-cloud skies, light breezes, and freaking COLD. 

Kelli wanders into the living room, yawning and wiping sleep from eyes.

Today's gonna be tough on ears, fingers and toes, I say. Dress appropriately. 

Just to play it safe, I decide a compromise with Old Man Winter is in order...pull on a pair of blue-knit long-johns under my shorts. 

It turns out I overdressed. Amazing the sweat one can work up while breaking an uphill trail. Fortunately, Caleb also loves to break trail. 

Approaching timberline we trade chilly shade for full sun. Light ricochets off bejeweled mounds of fresh powder, warming bodies, minds and souls...fingers, ears and toes. 

Peace out from
Mark, Bobbie, Caleb, and Kelli.
PS: Today we head back up ole Red for more snowshoeing.