And then there was nothing but him and the wooden skis and the snow. The trees came at him and he moved effortlessly away. A hillock appeared. He took it without thinking and moved smoothly on, ever downhill.

When he reached the bottom of the slope, he came to a stop in a flurry of powder and looked back up the side of Agua Fria Peak. Now that was some skiing! He was breathing hard, cheeks numb with cold even as the sun warmed his back. His mind was perfectly happy and clear. He shook his head in wonder, took a deep breath of the clear mountain air, and began the long trek back up the mountain so he could do it again.

from Moreno Valley Sketches II


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