We were in a fantasy snow globe world, a fisheye'd ice~fairy wonderland. Huge snowflakes swirled around, padding everything in a puffy cloud. My mittened hands held onto the rope attached to Molly the horse as she pulled us up Buck Hill in Vermont.

The day before, Captain Bob and I had arrived at our friend's rustic log cabin in the woods of Vermont. The bronco truck was filled with food, wine and blankets. A big snowstorm was coming and we figured that we could join camps for a couple days snowbound.

This cabin was delightful. Always a crackling fire and in the kitchen something delicious in the wood burning oven. Overstuffed couches, colorful wool carpets and a full wall filled with homemade canning. It was like artwork. They had a beautiful garden in the summer and she canned everything. Her pickled beets were my favorite.
We would sit around the fire lazily, Bob and I sharing our adventures sailing in the Bahamas and they told their pioneer stories of Alaska and Vermont.
Chess and card games were played quietly in a continuous loop.
Outside the snow gently piled up.

We reached the top of the hill. It was that once in a lifetime magical. We were laughing at everything and nothing. Falling about each other in the snow like happy little sailors on leave.


One by one, we skied peacefully back down the hill. Back to the cabin snuggled in the snow, in the woods of Vermont.