up on the mountain

It was so cold, her breath froze on her whiskers.  The barbed wire fence was similarly frosted.

And the sun made things sparkle, but failed to warm us.

Maya, undaunted, wallowed chin-deep through frozen drifts.

Sometimes deeper.

She seemed to think that a sub-zero early morning snowshoeing trip was one of my best ideas ever, and who am I to disagree?

(P.S. it is very bad trail manners to let your dog wreck a ski track.  But since at least one group of people and dogs had come along and wrecked it before us, I went ahead and let her.  Shame on me, I know.)