Easter on the Mountain

Unlike so many Easters past, our Easter here in the Sangre de Christo Mountains did not involve baskets and Easter egg hunts with our cute girls. Instead, it turned out to be a rare "adults only" Easter - with a fresh dusting of snow to smooth our way across the mountains.

Of course, no "adults only" Easter would miss some "fucking like bunnies" as a substitute for watching the little ones discover the goodies in their Easter baskets. Our version involved the deployment of Mistress's favorite power tool as a good way to launch the fun in our sun dabbled bedroom with it's mountain views.

And while the daffodils are certainly blooming back in River City in our tiny little yard, here the cold nights have kept the blooms off the trees. The only real sign of spring in our yard here so far  are the plump little prairie dogs  that can be seem scurrying about conspiring to dig up our yard yet again.  Argh!

So while skiing and the renewal of Easter may seem incongruent, it was certainly fun for Mistress and her slave to enjoy the sunny mountain trails before heading back down for some late afternoon sunning on our patio.

The only semi-downer on our day was my alma mater's  unsurprising loss to the Tar Heels last night in the round of eight. I was fortunate that we had already scheduled an Easter dinner here with some friends, so pouring drinks and grilling some salmon forced me not to focus on the slow but relentless beat down of the Irish by the clearly superior team from NC.

Sometimes a Number 1 seed deserves the ranking. And over-achievers come back to ground.

But back here in the Mountains, we all know who the Number 1 seed is, don't we?