THAT SKI-DOO FEELING
IT ALL POINTS TO THIS
A fresh blanket of white gold covers a frozen valley.
Totally untouched. Undisturbed. Pure powder.
The first sun appears over the tree line.
The moment your thumb's been waiting for.
What we all wait the long summer months for.
From anything that isn’t this.
“The snow was really deep here before I showed up.”
“I’ll hibernate next summer.”
“I leave no snowflake unturned.”