Christmas Eve Bluebird Day in Olympic Valley

Snow was still coming down through the pines first thing, big flakes, everything loaded and sagging. By the time we got up the mountain in Olympic Valley it had cleared completely — a true bluebird Christmas Eve, blue all the way across to the far side of Lake Tahoe. You could see the whole lake from partway down the run, dark water past miles of white trees.

The snow off the groomers was fresh from the night before and nobody had chewed it up yet. We stopped a lot, partly for the view, partly because it seemed wrong to hurry.

Back at the house the tree was lit in the window, the fake cardinal clipped to a branch same as ever, snow piled up outside past the fence. Tomorrow is Christmas.