On Christmas Day, between opening gifts and the big afternoon meal, Ken and I snuck away for a snowshoe hike through the park preserve near my family’s home in Northern Minnesota. It had been snowing for the past 24 hours straight, so the trails were generously coated and the tree boughs were heavily weighted down. Other than a single cross-country skiier, we were the only ones to be seen or heard, and it was quite the magical experience to make our way through the peaceful north woods surrounded by solitude and dancing snowflakes on Christmas, of all days.
