Snow is unique. No two flakes are alike. Each flake carries its own intricate DNA design pattern. When you look over an abundance of snow, as in this picture, it's difficult to believe that the millions of flakes that have fallen are independent; even though when together as a collective whole they give birth to perfect model of the mystical frozen flake.
The blue bird sky and brilliant sun add overwhelming life to this picture. With the kiss of the sunbeams, suddenly individual and solitary snowflakes take on an appearance of tiny diamonds.
Steamboat is known for its trademark "champagne powder" and in this photograph the eye can imagine a flute of the bubbly and a dash of diamonds for the skier or snowshoer's delight.
Once again, Mother Nature, in all her glory, brings together all her cherished children and paints an epic moment for the human eye, who were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time.
...tiny bubbles tickle my frozen nose, and millions of tiny diamonds give me pause to breathe in the jeweled silence of an afternoon adventure deep within a grove of trees, freshly decorated with Mother Nature's frozen tears... ann mcarthur 1/19/144
My father in law, Peter J. Gartlan, was a unique man. He was simply a kind person. He was also Irish. And as with any Irish man, he had the gift of craic. He told stories that left the audience in stitches. I had the luxury of spending a few afternoons with him, alone. Well, not alone as in solitude, but rather without his wife or 4 kids. We graced the YMCA pool with our champion Olympic strides, and then got serious with the down & dirty of Peter holding court. He had an audience of blue hairs. You know, little old ladies, with swim caps, bright and bold floral swim suits, eager to make a boyfriend. Peter, utterly devoted to his wife, seemed to be in his element when regaling the Blue Hairs Club with his Irish banter. It was as if we were attending some garden party, but with a pool instead, and Peter was the guest speaker. Nothing was ever out of mean spirit; Peter was a genuine person without an ounce of malice. He loved everyone, and people reacted to his dynamic and larger than life personality. When Peter passed away on a rainy night in March, 1995, a little part of my heart went with him. Peter was simple, kind, magnetic and most of all, the Leader of the Blue Hairs.
John A. McArthur - Remembering Peter
