Leisurely Snowshoeing

Yesterday I strapped on a pair of snowshoes after a brief hiatus. The first thing I recognized: I wasn't skiing. The snaillike pace forced me to look around for my stimulation. Changes were happening fast in this isolated canyon: rocks were weeping, ice covered smooth boulders, strained-striped walls dripped like tar. The steep cliffs narrowed as I stomped through crusty, shaded snow. Birds (Juncos?) hopped in and out salt bushes or ventured up a towering Ponderosa tree. Sage scents wafted around me as the snow evaporated. Yep, time was not moving very fast snowshoeing. Now, if I was a snowflake...