Although I always thought the snow was beautiful, when possible, I tended to keep my distance. I didn’t learn to ski when I was young enough to ignore the perils of speeding downhill, seemingly head-first. And my perfect temperatures started at 80º–for me to willingly spend time in the snow would have required an upending of the laws of physics, permitting it to fall at 65º.
But then, a few years ago, two things changed. I bought snow shoes, which prevent me from sinking in up to my knees or higher and which miraculously seem to flatten out the angles of the hills so I can go where my dogs go (but slower) and the activity keeps me warm. And I was given a small, perfect digital camera, the Canon G10, which reminds me of the little 35mm full-frame Minox that everyone had in the 80s. It’s light enough to take on treks, and (relatively) cheap enough so that if it gets destroyed (I dropped it–and me–into a icy, flowing stream two years ago–I instanly pulled out the battery and amazingly the camera survived), it’s not the tragedy that losing a Canon 5D or a PhaseOne back would be.