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Snow-covered tree

Of all life’s synergies, I appreciate most the one between my propensity for domestic procrastination and my love of moving through the outdoors — countless adventures are born of it. During a late November weekend, when faced with a day spent winterizing our home, my husband and I instead packed up our children and headed for Mount Moosilauke. Ascending the Gorge Brook Trail, we moved quickly, our son pouncing on every puddle, delighting in the power of his 60 pounds to break through the crème brûlée-layer of ice.

With this thin ice and a dusting of snow, the lower elevations had been warned of winter’s approach. The higher elevations, we soon discovered, were being blasted by its arrival — every surface, be it branch, rock or summit sign — was coated in a substance equal parts snow and ice. The wind, roaring and sustained, stung our noses and cheeks, the only bits of skin exposed.