With temps not breaking zero today, skiing was not in the cards for the team. Crash and the Boy took a dip in the tub, they emerged literally steaming in the sunlight - with icicles hanging off the Boy's bangs. Looking at 20 acres of pristine snow out the back windows, Crash was longing to have a huge snowball fight. I dutifully suited up to do battle after lunch. "How's the snow?" I inquired as arrived at the battlefield. "Not so good," he mourned. I picked up a handful, carefully tried to pack it and threw it with all my might at Crash. No satisfying thunk as it hit the target. Instead it looked like I was sprinkling fairy dust over my son.
We ended up taking a 45 minute hike through the field, down to the still flowing creek and around the old summer camp house. Only one set of prints to be seen out there besides ours. Even the animals are hunkered down for the duration.