Into the void

Thredbo snowbow

With Phillip at Antons

Quality Oz snow transport

Dead wombat

Dead roo

Slight visibility problem

Looking up

Windy trees

When you're out there in the difficult terrain, and the weather is atrocious with near-zero visibility and you see a really good skier pass you and carve it up like they own it, it's like spotting a wild animal in its native habitat.

You get older, the only point seems to be to fight the flickering of the flames. But you know they'll go out soon enough and there will be nothing but ash. You can take my ashes to the top of Mount Thredbo and toss them into the winter wind.

A few miscellaneous musings here and there. What you see is what you get. And that is pretty much the sum total of my literary output for the last year or so.

It was one of those days that was so perfect that I had to walk all the way home two miles just to soak it up. Sunny skies, barely a puff of wind, unseasonably springlike conditions. The balmy smell of joy penetrating the skin.

First sex, combat, the feeling you get when you drop into a ski run, a good paycheque, the insane buzz of your first drunken teenage misadventures.

You know what you should do. You know what you have to do. So why is it so hard to get down to work and do it?