shovel sledding and snowshoes

for a week of winter wonderland fun, we went to Utah. Northern Utah this time. It was my old stomping grounds back in the day. The post-college conundrum seasonal ski bum job sort of stomping grounds. The lodge where I worked cleaning toilets and stocking spa towels brings back memories every time I start towards little cottonwood canyon. I could ski out the back door down to the lifts and be on the mountain in less than 10.

This time, like many others before my toilet-cleaning, bed-making days, my family was there to visit my aunt and uncle: long time locals. Andrew was the new edition ( or addition, depending on how you want to look at it).

It was his first time skiing and, I have to say he did an amazing job picking up the moves right off. So we started down the blues. Then we went up a mountain on snowshoes. all the way up. It was gorgeous up there, clear skies and views for miles. Allyn and Jerry left us to our mountain summit, heading back for food and rest.

The way down may have been the highlight, though. The running and crashing in pillows of piles of powder. Then the shovel-sledding down the cat track: my favorite sport.