Blue Bird Day on Hillman’s Highway
Driving through Jefferson on Route 2 passing by people ascending the stairs to their houses of worship, I spotted the white caked peaks of the Northern Presidentials dead ahead. While the faithful of small town northern New England filled into their neighborhood churches, the skiing faithful of New England descended upon the Mecca of backcountry in New Hampshire.
My church is the snow covered mountains and the stairs leading up to the church are skin tracks. I worship the snow and get down on my hands and knees to pray when I am ascending the steep boot ladders. My deity of choice is the Earth which brought me here and can take me out when ever it deems I have had my time to enjoy life. At which point I will rejoin the Earth and have my ashes dumped out across the mountains I worship. Today would not be that day though.



