SOME DAYS, POWDER FINDS YOU by sheer stupid happenstance. You wake up and peek through the blinds. As if placed there like a gift from God, a foot of snow covers the porch where there was none before. Not a minute to lose, you slurp down coffee and raccoon around the back of the fridge for some dense carbohydrate and cheese. Skis, boots, poles; helmet, beacon, pack; thick mittens, extra layer, low-light lens, goggle wipe, double Buff—because there’s no way that one face shield is enough on a day like today.
Riding on the chair through the storm, your inner child surfaces through the oppressive goo of adulthood. Decisions about career, health care, relationships, and day-to-day noise wash away as the chairlift takes you and a couple companions up, up,…
