… a sledding scene. For me, sledding is pure joy. It’s a simply activity that provides an astonishing amount of delight. I can’t be depressed if I’m sledding.

Here’s my description:

“As I climb the hill for the fifth time, the cold air is sharp in my lungs. But with a big grin, I reach the top. Squinting against the brilliant sun, I scan the slope, waiting for the other sledders to get out of the way at the bottom. I sit down on my sled, propelling myself with my hands. The snow crackles under my mittens. Smoke from a nearby fire lends the air a cozy smell. I build my speed and zip down the hill, snow flying as fast as the laughs of the sledders. Skidding into a field of weeds, I cover my face with my mittens. The sled grinds to halt. I breathe, staring at the a sky bluer than the sea. Then I’m on my feet, running up the hill.”

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