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That's a nice, soothing winter picture, just like out behind my house, but with 30" less snow. The mind's willing but the body's just not up for the rigors of downhill winter sports, but a tromp thru deep, virgin snow in a quiet forest, well that's quite another thing. Reminds me of Frost...just not under the same circumstances of his poem. Thanks for the pic!
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
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