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If the devil made a deal with me to choose one joyous, cathartic experience before he cast me onto the hazardous waste heap, I would (aside from participating in a Three Stooges pie fight) choose a romp through the first snow of the season: flapping my snow angel wings, pelting speed limit signs with icy snowballs, feeling cool fairydust on my reddened cheeks.

That happened last weekend as a rare October snow surprised California's Sierra Nevada.

My wife and I spent Saturday night (our anniversary) at Plump Jack, the restaurant and Inn in Squaw Valley and while that was quite good, no duck filet or Pinot Noir could possibly match the experience of waking up to fresh snow Sunday morning. We drove around Lake Tahoe encountering people as giddy as we were along the way: a woman in her 20s from Southern Californa who had never seen snow, a Mexican family reveling in this odd white stuff with a snowball fight.

I also savored the notion of black and white:

All Photos (c) 2009 Russell Johnson - All Rights Reserved