Something about strapping a couple of sticks of fiberglass to my feet and heading into the woods for an hour does wonders for the psyche. Skiing as Prozac. Maybe so. This is the beginning of one of my favorite sections of trail. Bad cell phone picture. Maybe I'll shoot some nicer ones tomorrow. Today, the snow was fresh enough to make skiing almost noiseless and warm enough to make it nearly effortless. I know I'll never be able to live in the big city. Without the quiet of a day so still that the branches still hold more than an inch of fresh snow, I think I might simply blink out.
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