Author's Note: Take note of the semantic devices and figurative language used within this creative, yet reflective piece. I actually spent nine days in 1987 skiing the various resorts in Colorado, with many great memories etched into my brain forever.
Standing at the top of the ski run at Snowmass Mountain, with
my ski tips pointing downward, I knew it was the one place in all the world
where I was at peace. The crisp, cold morning
air that was biting at my nose was filled with billions of snowflakes which
were gently falling to the ground like tiny parachutes, adding to the already feet
of snow that had come this winter season. The dead silence of the morning was barely
interrupted by the sometimes haunting sound of the wind rushing through the
pine trees. At this time of the morning, the golden sun is just peaking over
the top of the eastern horizon, creating a painting like those found in the
great art galleries of the world. For
miles and miles, all you can see are “snow capped” mountains, some with their
peaks hidden from view by the low-lying clouds.
Dotting those peaks were tall evergreen trees, which looked like soldiers
standing guard at the gates of heaven. While I stood atop the peak at the
beginning of the “diamond run”, sipping my “morning cup of Joe”, I was not sure
what I was going to do the rest of the day, nor did I really care what the
plans might be, but I knew that if I did nothing else today, I would be OK with
that plan!
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