Timing, temperatures, a little too much of this, not enough of that.
This time, it snowed an inch an hour overnight with the temperature dropping bit by bit as sunrise approached.
That laid down a smooth blanket underneath, with light, fluffy meringue on top.
Winds blew fiercely overnight, then eased up at sunrise. That whipped up some stout wind drifts on the upper mountain, but filled most of them in with fluffy pow just in time for the lifts to open.
We’re used to morning fog after a stormy night, but today, the snowflakes spread out and the sky opened up for a few hours, blessing us with some blue sky and some unexpectedly good visibility.
Temperatures stayed low all day, so even tracked slopes stayed soft and conforming.
And the winds that could have pounded the air out of the powder… smoothed the surface…
…then somehow layered on an abundant serving of whipped topping.
The recipe was so right, it peeled away inhibitions.
To let it rip with wild abandon…
…and recover gracefully:
It didn’t really matter today.
There was always another slope waiting.
A crowd of plump snow ghosts cheering you on.
And the feeling that it really is possible for everything to go just right…
…to indulge our appetite for powder perfection.