This is the winter I choose to embrace snow. Ice. Pockets of blue that arrive like grace from the clouds. Red berries left on the Mountain Ash. The way my skis glide up the trail and the view of the frozen creek. Sulfuric waters that rise from the earth. Small Montana towns with one quirky bakery and a cowboy bar. Yellowstone and her bison, her geysers, the way they make the earth smell sulfuric and wild. Hotel rooms and sharing space and sleeping in and moving slow. The way the pockets of blue guide me through each day, living for them, for the light, for the moments of grace.