I had the main part of the ski area to myself, and made several more satisfying runs down steep tree lines that plunged in all directions, aiming always for the more northerly aspects. Though I had never been here, I knew there was more out there, up there, an alpine siren taunting from behind billowing curtains. I could wait her out.

During a break at a makeshift lodge, I sat by the window, staring deep into the storm as if I were still outside or trying to wrest a different perspective. How much of my life had I spent watching it snow like this? Marveling at the swirl and pulse of flakes against the trees, or watching waves curl from the eaves of an ancient stone building in some distant aerie? Not enough to tire of the enchantment, obviously.

I decided I liked windows. They put you out there even when you weren’t. They made snowfalls paintings. And when the storm cleared, as it eventually would, they always framed a diorama of desire.

Photo: Garrett Grove, Sentry Lodge, Esplandes, BC

Words: Leslie Anthony taken from the Daily Pow report on AJ.

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