There is something so magical for me in watching my kids pop on their skis and head off across the expanse beyond our driveway.
The became colored dots on the white and then disappeared from sight, their laughter still carrying across the pasture.
When they came back their wool mittens were caked with snow, their cheeks were rosy, and they carried weathered deer bones in their pockets and stories of mallards in the stream.
I could hardly look away as they disappeared into the woods. Not out of worry but out of joy and amazement.
