The mountain was out yesterday. The Mountain. If you live in this part of the Pacific Northwest, you know what mountain we’re talking about. To snowshoe across the powder-covered lower sections, looking up at the peak thousands of feet above in the clean, white December sun, is to get only a small glimpse of the power and reach of this defining Cascadian landmark.
This snow under my feet will melt and flow down the hillsides, becoming rivers with names that sound familiar: Puyallup, Nisqually, White, Carbon. In the same way that the oceans join far-flung lands, the rivers connect the mountains to the sea. Water has a kind of magic to it, regardless of where it is found.
