Heaven, or not, in Whistler/Blackcomb
If you are having trouble seeing a mountain in there, don’t worry. Do not adjust your eyes. It is snowing so much here that we can’t see the mountain.
My husband is in heaven: Look at all that fresh powder!
I am not: Oh, no. Look at all that fresh powder.
I learned to ski as an adult, and I am eastern skier.
Machine-groomed corduroy is my friend. This powder? Hard work. Every run looks like something I have to ski, not something I want to ski.
I groan at every new inch of snowfall. Gleeful skiers exclaim with delight over the foot of fresh powder that greets them every morning.
Interesting how the same thing has two opposite different meanings, depending on perspective.