A few weeks ago, I had crawled into bed grumbling about another wave of snow forecast for later that week. At the start of the season I had been enchanted by the snow, but by early March, winter had been wearing me down.
How funny then, to wake up to a wintry paradise last Sunday morning.
It’s as if Mère Nature had overhead my grumbles and decided to do all she could to win me back.
We got up early, drove to Pont d’Espagne and slipped on our back-country skis. From the car-park, we left the hoards of day-trippers behind and ascended up through the forest to Lac du Gaube. New snow had whitened each branch of each tree, freshened the ground cover, softened all but the craggiest mountain peaks. For over an hour, we ascended through tunnels of white, under a blue, blue sky. When we got to the top, Lac du Gaube and the Vignemale were waiting to be devoured by our eyes.
Sunday was a day of winter without the work. Bravo, Mother Nature – I once again marvel at your handiwork.
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