Shoes and the Dance

For a number of years, our Christmas gifts to our nieces and nephews have been experiences rather than things. Usually, these experiences are Christmas break activities that bring the family together and out of that post-holiday stupor. This year, with COVID proliferating we weren’t sure we would be able to assemble. Fortunately, creative problem solving is one of my everlasting compulsions, and with a little of that an answer presented itself in the form of some traditional winter weight distribution, aka snowshoeing at Sundance Resort. That wasn’t the only predicament that had to be cracked to bring about the outing that would bring my family together. Let us talk of leisure problems and inconsequential solutions.

Shortly after I recognized the situational suitability of snowshoeing, I realized the kids would all need snowshoes. In the consumer-driven shopping hubs of America, you’d think finding a handful of snowshoes would be an easy task. Yes, supply and demand balance perfectly as the invisible hand directs the recreational free market system. Unless a pandemic throws that equilibrium into chaos because trees can’t give you COVID. My “creative” idea proved common, so finding snowshoes was tricky. After searching numerous stores and websites, Jason and I were able to find enough pairs for all the kiddos. One more problem solved, others to go.

Elk Meadows
Do you want to build a snowman?

After acquiring the shoes for snowshoeing, the snow part proved difficult. We chose to gather during Christmas break even with a powder scarcity. I thought we might be sludge shoeing in the meager 13 inches available, but the coverage was better than I anticipated. There were only a couple spots where the ground was bare, and the dirt in those sections was too frozen to be muddy. Yes, yet another obstacle surmounted.

making it to the meadow
The group almost gave up just minutes from this scenic spot.

The last issue was the diverse sentiments of the kids regarding snowshoeing. This particular dilemma existed due to the endeavor’s exercise requirement. There were some complaints and subsequent bribes resolved those concerns. However, most of the youngsters needed no payoffs to have a good time.

Stewart Falls
Stewart Falls’ tumbles were a stilled filigree on the hillside.

Due to the absence of snow, not all the trails at Sundance were open, but considering the limited gumption of the group, what was available was more than plenty. With a little pushing, we made it to Honeymoon Meadows where lovely views of Timpanogos and a frozen Stewart Falls encircled us.

Honeymoon Meadows
I’d honeymoon in any meadow with this boy.

Unlike a subset of the children, Jason and I loved clomping through the aspens. So, a few days later, on New Year’s Day, we returned to Sundance to clomp under the full moon. Brr!! The straw in my CamelBak froze as we trekked along in 15 degrees, but we managed to stay liquid.

the full experience
Snowshoeing under the full moon takes a little sense of adventure and a lot of layers.

I’m grateful we were still able to gather the family through a slightly-less-snowy-than-ideal adventure even with the restrictions of COVID life. Just about any problem can be solved with some resourcefulness and prolific snacks.

Typically Magical

Christmas is supposed to be magical. Often, it is just typical. For us, last December’s festivities were a little of both.

What was typical about 2020’s Christmas? Jason and I opened presents from each other in our usual fashion, though perhaps a bit earlier than normal. In our drawn-out process, every item is played with, discussed, tried on, laughed at, etc. Jason and I also made beef bourguignon together. We often scavenge for enough moments to make this special dish during the holidays and have succeeded on enough occasions to justify its placement here in the typical category.

the unavoidable benefits of climate collapse
Hiking on Christmas day? Magical or apocalyptical?

That brings me to the magical. What was magical about 2020’s Christmas? Time. Without a multitude of family happenings, Jason and I had enough time to make breakfast together and go on an afternoon hike. I’m not sure if a hike on Christmas should be considered magical or simply a manifestation of climate mayhem, but we enjoyed it either way.

The Silence of the Yams
It puts the icing on.

While we didn’t have present-opening extravaganzas with family members, we did have chaotic Google video chats and gift unveils. Technology is pretty magical even if its trendy offspring, tumultuous virtual conversations, are sometimes less so. Therefore, with reservations, I’m placing these digital gatherings in the magical category.

kooky cookies
We created many film-inspired cookies proving delicious and appetizing aren’t necessarily synonymous.

Those few dull paragraphs sum up what was a delightful Christmas. Maybe magical would be a stretch, but it was ordinarily and abnormally wonderful.

A Holiday in the Park

Jason and I typically host a small but unruly Christmas gathering every year. Given that we were opposed to spreading COVID quicker than holiday cheer, we opted to celebrate with friends outside in a non-scattering way last December. This forced the festivities to be organized at the last minute when weather could be predicted. I am a planner not a procrastinator, so I was repulsed by my own stalling. How did going against the core of who I am work out? Better than I thought possible.

Since Jason and I knew throwing our usual Christmas party would not be a responsible option for 2020, we debated between holding something outdoors where attendees could stay far from each other or just canceling the event altogether. After all, December isn’t known for its pleasant demeanor, and I don’t think Jack Frost would make a congenial party guest. We waited and watched the weather. When an agreeable Saturday showed up in the forecast, I leapt into action and began tackling party tasks quickly.

the pleasures of people
During COVID, visiting with people in a park is much more thrilling than it should be.

With just a week’s notice, we assumed few friends would show up for our impromptu shindig. We were wrong. Attendees totaled 15, which was nearly everyone invited. Initially, I arranged for the event to take place in a restaurant’s outdoor seating area. Eventually, we moved it to a nearby park because our anticipated group size got too large for the restaurant to put each household at a separate table. The menu remained the same despite the change in location, thanks to the versatility of takeout. From short rib hash to eggs benedict, we all enjoyed our alfresco meals.

Jason and I also ordered hot chocolate and various other scalding drinks from Starbucks in an attempt to keep everyone warm. The gesture, although tasty, proved unnecessary. Temperatures never rose above 39 degrees, but continual sunshine and absentee wind augmented weather satisfaction. Also, because we were all starved for social interaction, we probably would have contentedly sat through a manta ray blizzard. The group chatted for three hours, much longer than expected.

I compiled a white elephant video to make a contactless and distant exchange possible. It altered this tradition slightly but by no means impaired the absurdity at its heart.

I’m not the dallying type. The procrastination required for this affair did force me to question my place in the universe, but it didn’t make the event unsuccessful. And thankfully, our careful last-minute planning kept everyone well. Getting COVID for Christmas could be worse than getting a lump of coal.