i’ve always enjoyed seeing snow-covered mountains. for as long as i can remember, they’ve instilled a sense of wonder in me. like if i could suddenly teleport to them, i’d find myself in a fantasy world not unlike the lord of the rings or stephen king’s gunslinger — shit would be crazy and super cool. and failing that, things would at least be peaceful as all hell and beautifully desolate.
but it’s only been in the last year or two that i’ve realized just how much i love this visual, and how long i’ve felt this way. i think my earliest recollection of it is looking at mt. baker from oak bay with my grandma. she always pointed it out on clear days and commented on how lovely it was. i never thought much of it at the time and wondered why she was so into it, but i think that memory probably has a lot to do with this fascination of mine.
in fact, when jenn and i were looking at property up on malcolm island last year, we checked out one place that had a view of some snow-capped mountains and i almost died. i could just imagine being able to see those every day. we weren’t able to purchase that property (yet) but it really hit home for me how sweet it would be if whatever property we find has a similar view. fuck ocean views, i want mountains. big, white, fantastic, inhospitable mountains. i want to spend my days just staring at them, maybe petting the dog or playing bass. what a dream that would be.