[Traveling Tales] A Leisurely Road Trip Down the West Coast

December 3, 2015February 22, 2016Leave a comment

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
― Eleanor Roosevelt

I’ve been told that there’s only one constant in life, and all ironies aside – that constant is change. As with the old adage ‘this too shall pass‘, I’ve developed a thicker skin and a willful resolve in the understanding that no matter what I’m doing or the trajectory of my life, the chances of a roller coaster moment is coming are high – so hold on and enjoy the ride. The ups, downs and in-betweens are all wonderful side-effects of this passionate, purposeful and perpetual, journey around the sun. This past year alone has been a crazy one, it started with a bang on a social high and it’s ending on a more personal, yet equally loud, roar – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The holidays have always provided me ample time for retrospect, possible due to the lack of a social circle in Oregon – but mostly because of the long flight up and almost two hour drive in from Portland to Corvallis once the plane lands. Even though I’m not originally from Oregon, my dad is and I’ve felt like it’s been my second (well, technicality third home for my entire life). Since I was a wee little one, I’ve been frequenting California’s stately neighbor to North. Plus, now that my dad is inching towards retirement he’s left the busy, bustling and vibrant city life of San Francisco behind while trading it for the slower paced, quieter, country life of Corvallis; where the claim to fame is green grass, football and Oregon State University.

Since they’d spent the last few months moving, my step-mom was over the moon excited to see us for two reasons – it’d been almost four months since the last time the family got together and she couldn’t wait to unload whatever household items they didn’t need into our possession. Whether her excitement was from Column A or Column B simply didn’t faze us – we were over the moon about both! Originally when we discussed how we were bringing it all back to Los Angeles, we’d considered renting a van or renting a U-Haul, and had jokingly mentioned that we could just fill the old ’98 Ford Expedition for a full fledged, super fun road trip – maybe we’d bring it back later in the year and use it as an excuse to come visit again; the options felt endless! Instead of laughing at us, they mused that we might as well just keep the truck since all it had been doing over the last give years was gathering rust and spiderwebs in the garage. Without missing a beat, we jumped with joy and resolved we’d only have to book a one way flight to Oregon – and could spend the tail end of it road tripping down through Oregon to San Francisco and then on to Los Angeles. Sure, we had the chance to travel down this path when heading to and from Shambhala but we’d always been in such a rush and never seemed to have the time to smell the proverbial roses or bask in the delightful Oregon sunshine.

If you’re not from Oregon, one of the first things to understand about traveling during Thanksgiving Break is that you’re going to find yourself in a bit of traffic from the Civil War Game. Every year after Thanksgiving, the Eugene based University of Oregon Ducks take on the OSU Beavers for what’s contended to be the 5th largest college football rivalry in the United States.
If you’re a football fan, it’s a proper time to rejoice – but if you’re trying to make your way down the 5 to California, beware – because there’s really only one major freeway and depending on your timing you might just get stuck in it. That’s literally the only weekend of the year I’ve ever seen traffic in Oregon. Instead of getting stuck in traffic, we decided to not only leave early but to take every detour we saw fit – we were in the mood to enjoy ourselves and for once we weren’t rushing back to LA on zero energy!

Our first stop was the little known Corvallis BMX Park on the edge of the city where the Marys River and the Williamette River collide. Some parts were too waterlog to risk, others were too icy to entertain – but throughout it all it was an enjoyable adventure, even when we had to look up exactly what poision oak really looks like. Then we were off, off and away to a rest stop near Oakland, Oregon that looked like it was straight out of a fairy tale with vibrant greens, radiant yellows and blossoming reds. Time had come to a standstill while we stood there, laughing like five year olds as we waltzed the empty paths around the field, enraptured by our momentary microcosm.

By the time we reached Mt.Ashland, it felt as though we’d experienced the brevity of all the seasons in just a few short hours. First a cool breeze and sparse sunshine, blossoming into sunshowers and scattered clouds as we climbed our way into an indescribable winter wonderland. Squealing like a schoolgirl that hadn’t seen snow more than a handful of times in her life, I pleaded with Danny to pull over at each and every turnout so we could embrace the snowfall, dance on the purity of the ground… and apparently have a snowball fight or two.

By sunset, we’d conquered Yreka and saw a beautiful orange and magenta shimmer off of snowcapped Mt.Shasta

We got to Menlo Park late that night, to wake up to the excitement of a stunning Saturday in the Bay Area. It’d been forever since we’d had a day to just spend some time with my mother and I was beyond happy that she could host us for the weekend. We spent the day gallivanting around the Bay Area to all my former stomping grounds – Strolling through Menlo Park, and into Atherton where my old High School was to grab lunch downtown at Le Boulanger, then into Palo Alto, Stanford Campus and my favorite hidden gem of a botanical garden. It was a whirlwind few days with a lot of driving and a ton of walking, but it felt great to stretch the limbs, expand the mind and really connect with my family and my fiance.

[The Audiofiles] Desert Hearts: There’s a Message in the Music

April 3, 2015April 3, 2015Leave a comment

Photography by Daniel Leist

Last Thursday night, we congregated in hushed tones – packing, plotting, scheming over what the weekend would bring. Not to say that my friends and I are novices to music festivals – quite the opposite in fact – but it’d been a good minute since we’d all had a ‘first’ in the music scene. Friday morning we woke up to delicious threats of coffee and impending adventure just around the corner. After loading up our cars to the brim with the bare necessities, we were off down the rabbit hole on an adventure for the books; reverse skydiving into a whimsical, wonderful world where the unexpected was probable and the possible was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Scrolling through the lineup for Desert Hearts, we collectively knew about a third of the musical acts…between the seven of us. This was our inaugural Desert Hearts experience and we all knew we’d be in for a special treat. What started two and a half years ago as an intimate renegade gathering in the Mojave Desert has transformed into band of brothers and sisters over 2000 strong. For the 6th installment of Desert Hearts, we traversed inland to ten acres of sacred space belonging to the Los Coyotes Band of Indians; it’s the largest reservation in San Diego County, boasting a healing, vibrant landscape.

By all standards, this isn’t your normal 3 Day Music Festival – featuring not just one love and one vibe, but one stage for a wild romp through nuanced variations of House, Disco and Techno all weekend long. Hosted by an equally eclectic, talented and mindful group, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that they’ve spurred a community based artistic platform appropriately called Desert Arts while simply giving away all their music – singles, albums and sets – for free on Soundcloud just for the sake of sharing their passions with the world. They’re a philanthropic, warm heart-ed, collaborative, conscious and creative entourage and it’s reflected within the community that they’ve cultivated.

After two hours in the car, laughing, musing, and daydreaming about our first Desert Hearts experience we valiantly arrived at the check-in point, blaring the last heavy bass drop we thought we’d hear for the next three days. Greeted by the Green Team, we were welcomed with warm smiles and a set of trash bags so we could keep the grounds as wonderful as we’d found them, Within minutes, we’d conquered the campground and picked the perfect camping spot – surrounded by equal sun showers and shade during the day, and ample starlight melded mystery at night. Gallivanting towards the stage, we noticed ‘Desert Hearts’ necklaces glistening in the sunlight and immediately mused that we all wanted one; within seconds of stepping foot onto the dance floor, a beautiful soul named Purps pranced our way with a sparkle in her eye and giving in her heart. ‘Welcome to Desert Hearts!’ she smiled, ‘This is for you!’ What a wonderful, gesture – as if we’d manifested this ourselves. Immediately, we found our groove and held it for a transformative, magical, inventive, musical 72 hours while playing, prancing, hugging, dancing, giggling and shining in the Spring air.

Sultry sets, plush with body bumping, soul thumping Tech House from Jamie Schwabl and Tara Brooks of LA’s own Wülfpack kicked the night off right while hoopers, poi perfectionists, fire dancers and creative artists of all types scattered throughout the forest. Up next was hands down, one of the most phenomenal back to back sets I’ve borne witness to. Philipp Jung of M.A.N.D.Y. and Audiofly expertly crafted a phenomenal Tech House set as the rare and highly acclaimed supergroup ‘M.A.N.F.L.Y.’ You could watch them put their minds together, determining the collective fate of the dance floor with excitement and glee. Evening manifested into morning, and a beautiful Blond:ish sunrise set. Though the temperatures got down to as low as 40 a night – we found that if you stayed on the dance floor and shook your groove thing, you could stay warm all night by heating up the dance floor with your stellar moves.

Waking up Saturday morning surrounded by a lush landscape, the cacophony of nature purring over a four to the floor bassline, completely disconnected from all forms of technology was the epitome of bliss. Looking around, I was proud to be a member of this new tribe – a warm welcoming group of idiosyncratic individuals, donning duds from eons past into the further future; cummerbunds, galactic glitter shorts, top hats, bunny suits, glowing cat tails, bubble guns, flow toys and more shimmed around me – and that’s just from our campsite. All it took was a day, and our ethos felt preserved, like a time capsule or a pressed flower. Adjusting to our beautiful new reality, we bounded down the trails in search of friends and mimosas, melody and merrymaking and found ourselves in the art tent, enraptured by the work of Jef Logan.

As we collapsed over each other while giggling in time with the music, Marbs casually strolled through the room with a hop in his step, a glimmer in his eye and his parents by his side. Sauntering to a sitting position, we gleefully exclaimed to his mother how amazing the festival was and that the beauty, art, creativity and kinship they were witnessing were possible because of their influence before resuming our cuddle puddle, once again lost in the shadow play and sunlight. Starting our walk back to the campsite to prepare for the evenings festivities, Danny and I were stopped in my tracks by someone asking for a favor; we weren’t sure what we could offer, but decided to play along anyways. After handing over a copy of Shel Silverstein’s ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends‘ we were immediately whisked ten feet away to a stage where we were the main attraction for dozens of eager beavers, ready to lap up our linguistic talents. “We’ve picked a poem for you! Would you mind reading? We’re ready!” Before my brain had a second to flirt with declining, I’d started in, with Danny chiming in on the next line. Back and forth, we wove through the stanza in an impromptu slam poetry performance that reinvigorated my soul and humored my funny bone.

Reassembling back at the campsite, we kicked off Saturday evening with a hike into a gorgeous, open field. For a few moments, we forgot there was even a festival in the background – less the dull roar of music in the distance. Quietly, we marinated in the beauty of the moment, our minds wandering outward to the cotton candy sunset cascading through the sky and inward, firmly grasping the concepts of community, friendship and love on a new, unified wavelength. Shaking our way back to the stage, freak flags flew vivaciously from each and every direction as the freedom of individual self expression sprang to new heights, where inner children, superheroes, gods and goddesses emanated from each and every one of us. With one stage, one vibe and one rhythm – we’d metamorphosed into one giant, living, breathing, heartfelt, creative, magical, giving, dancing organism with the stage as our collective heartbeat.

The tunes Saturday night were a Desert Heart’s family affair, eloquently flowing between Deep Jesus, Marbs, Porkchop, Mikey Lion and Lee Reynolds from 6 at night til 4 in the morning. One of the many beautiful things about Desert Hearts is there’s no distinction made between performers, artists, musicians, production, staff, crew, festies and fanatics – there aren’t VIP passes or VIP booths, because w’re all DHP – Desert Hearts People. What that meant, was anyone and everyone was allowed to roam as they pleased across, around and through the campground; leading the most cavalier of folk to snag their five minutes of fame behind the DJ booth with their crew. Lost in a groove to a gorgeous rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’, we danced the way we felt while bubbles and glitter cascaded around us. I didn’t make it to Atish, but my friends that did let me know how much I missed out.

By Sunday, we’d perfected the Desert Heart Bob – or the DHB for short – while salaciously serendipitous meetings of friends and strangers alike pulled on our heartstrings. Hilarious, funny and pun riddled totems floated throughout the festival with as much character as the individuals porting them. There were festival go-ers from all walks of life, with one foot firmly planted in the convoluted reality of a 9 to 5 working job, while the other tapped in time to it’s unique, effervescent rhythm. Desert Hearts is proof that if you build it, they will come; and if you play it, they’ll dance. The music on Sunday was on point, and heavier on the bass. The night before, we discovered a full banana costume next to us on the floor – it wasn’t til Sunday’s shenanigans with Monkey Safari and the crowd going completely bananas that it all made sense. Going into the evening, I’d reiterated over and over that we couldn’t miss Wobs; and did he ever hold up his end of that bargain. From the giant zebra flying through the crowd, to hilarious cardboard cameras with his name on them – his stage presence spoke volumes and the crowd celebrated in kind.

As we packed up our campsite Monday morning, we couldn’t help but reminisce on a beautiful weekend past and a bold new future to take the reigns on. With the mentality of radical self reliance, we collectively decided that since we hadn’t exactly paid attention to which was the trash and which was the recycling – we’d lend some hands to the Green Team to sort through them; after all, it wasn’t on them that we didn’t remember, but I guarantee we all will next time! To reward ourselves, we took one last stroll onto the dance floor and closed out the festival the only way one should – with the Desert Hearts DJs taking the reigns as a family, in an epic back to back set that I’m thrilled I got to witness. Hands down, one of the most beautiful Monday afternoons I’ve ever had.

Rousing ourselves away from the dance floor, we became lost once again in the moment – a 72 hour moment that seemed to linger like a perfume, tangled in the wind. For 3 days, 72 hours, 4320 minutes, 359,200 seconds – glitter was a color, hugs were currency, laughter was lyrical, smiles became medicine and we truly were one. We came to Desert Hearts with beautiful intentions and without expectation and we left with our heads in the clouds and our feet still on the dance floor. We laughed, danced and cried tears of joy; we were shaken to our core by how awe inspiring this world is and shown time and time again that it’s up to us to not only leave it better, but leave it beautiful.

We are all Desert Hearts, and there’s a message in our music.

A HUGE thank you to the Green Team for promoting sustainability and ensuring we left the venue better than we found it; the Los Coyotes Tribe and Tribal Police for allowing us to gather and celebrate on their land; the Dance Safe Team for promoting intelligent partying; Symbiotic Creations and Alternative Lighting Solutions for a stunning stage presentation; Shangri-Lawless and Pile Palace for the great conversation and overflowing cuddle puddles; Harmonic Light for the unreal, unedited, mind blowing long exposure pictures; the Fire Performers and Dancers for a stunning display of grace and beauty; the Desert Arts Foundation for the enchanting and talented artists and art scattered throughout the festival; The DJ List for entrusting us to tell the world about our astounding experiences and Daniel Leist for being the best photographer, best friend, partner in crime and love a girl could ask for; the beautiful community that gathered together for four days and three nights under the stars with one heartbeat under one sound and last but certainly not least: Mikey Lion, Lee Reynolds, Marbs, Porkchop, Deep Jesus and the rest of the wonderful Desert Hearts family for an astounding event that inspires creativity and consciousness, individual evolution and communal revolution.

Make sure you stay in touch with Desert Hearts for the dirt on their next festival:

Website | Facebook | Soundcloud | Twitter | Instagram

For the rest of the Album – Head to our Facebook Page and Daniel Leist Photography

“I’m not strange, weird, off, nor crazy, my reality is just different from yours.”

[Oh, Snap!] Exploring The Eagle Rock / Glenoaks Canyon Trail

February 15, 2015February 15, 20151 Comment

In my never ending quest to take in all the nature I possibly can in Los Angeles, the idea of finding lush, green pastures and wind swept trees locally has more often than not escaped me. When I was living in Korea Town and West Hollywood, I was easily and habitually reminded of the close proximity of the heart of the city. I could feel the pulse of the streets and yearned to be closer to nature. So, thank goodness I moved out to Eagle Rock – there’s all the amenities of West Side living but paired with the lackadaisical but passionate work ethic of the modern Renaissance person, advocating equal time for work and play. Instead of being engulfed by the traffic and smog of the city, I’m constantly in awe of the natural beauty that surrounds this area.

For Valentine’s Day weekend, Danny and I had a few friends stay with us and we got to explore a whole new side of the neighborhood. Just over the freeway, where the 2 and 134 meet, there’s a wonderful little trail right on Sleepy Hollow Lane, oh and also – most adorable street name ever. We walked a few miles while the blazing succulent sun-rays rained down on us and I couldn’t think of a more beautiful way to spend my Friday afternoon. What’s even better, is this is just 5 minutes away and boasts a view of Big Bear, Orange County’s Saddleback Mountain, Downtown LA, Santa Monica and the Pacific Ocean.

[Oh, Snap] Eagle Rockin’ and Eagle Walkin’ v6

February 2, 2015February 2, 2015Leave a comment

It’s been a beautiful past few days in Southern California, and I’ve got the pictures to prove it.

Further proof that Winter is simply a state of mind….

[Oh, Snap!] Ringing In 2015 at The University of California’s Botanical Garden in Berkeley

January 11, 2015January 11, 2015Leave a comment

After crushing it into the New Years at Sea of Dreams for the second time running, the New Years Day was spent marinating in the good tidings of the past year, and the first half of Friday was devoted to work. But, as noon settled in – I got the call from my boss that everyone wishes they had: If you have your work in, you’re dismissed. All week, I’d made it a mission to get ahead of myself so I could coast into the New Year; it was totally working. My parents were poised to pounce with a bevvy of beautiful options for the afternoon – we could go to Land’s End and enjoy the roar of the Pacific, or they could whisk us over the Bay Bridge and into one of two Botanical Gardens manned by the University of California School System, the other located at UCLA . As Ursula from The Little Mermaid taunted, ‘Life is full of tough choices‘; but when one of them happened to be a place I’d already been, and the later a place my family had never spent time, I knew exactly where we should be.

The sun just reached it’s pinnacle and we were off, galloping across the glistening San Francisco Bay into new territory, Oakland’s Strawberry Canyon. Within seconds we were lost in the wilderness, whimsically in wanderlust. Tucked away in the hillside, high above the city and it’s highest skyscrapers – the UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley is one of the Bay Area’s best kept secrets. Boasting over 12,000 rare and unusual plants selectively segmented across 34 acres and multiple greenhouses, these botanical gardens are among the most populated and diverse in the entire United States.

For you number nerds like me – according to their site, this is the breakdown in numbers:

300+ families
- 2,710 genera
  - 9,670 species
    - 12,800 taxa
      - 19,300 accessions (each accession represents one or more plants in the Garden).

The five best-represented families are:

Cactus family (2,029 accessions; 1,198 taxa)
Sunflower family (1,002 accessions; 771 taxa)
Orchid family (1,030 accessions; 711 taxa)
Lily family (1,097 accessions; 675 taxa)
Heath family (979 accessions; 614 taxa).

From Cactus Gardens to Herb Gardens, Medicinal Chinese Gardens and massive plots of native Californian, South American, African, Mediterranean and Asian plants – the botanical gardens represents the entire globe, with an emphasis on plants from Mediterranean Climates. Not to mention, there’s an amazing arena for succulents.

The gardens are open daily from 9 to 5PM and tickets typically run at $10 a head – but, know before you go: there’s free admission the first Wednesday of every month!

For more about the UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley, visit their various socials:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

[Oh, Snap] Gallivanting Through Crissy Field and Over the Golden Gate Bridge

January 4, 2015January 4, 20151 Comment

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For the last week of 2014, my wanderlust swept me away from the City of Angels and up to my favorite City by the Bay – San Francisco. Even though I was born and raised in the Silicon Valley, now that my father lives in the heart of the city I spend a significant proportion of my time gallivanting around neighborhoods in search of epic street art, beautiful scenery and the unique architecture of the city.

Typically, my parents are my road dogs while I roam but this time, Danny and I enlisted a few of our LA favorites to explore with us. Due to weather issues (typical) and unexpected detours (also, typical) over my last few trips, we never managed to make it down to Golden Gate Park, and I’ve kinda been begging, pleading – maybe even whining – to be dwarfed by the awe inspiring Golden Gate Bridge. As we descended on the city after a hearty (and delicious) brunch at the Butler and the Chef, my friends asked around to see where we wanted to go; after squeaking ‘Golden Gate Park’ from the back seat, my friends smiled in agreement. In sync, we took a sip of our roadies while rolling down the windows, the slow backbeat of a moody rock song filled the car while the engine purred in response. Adventure was calling, and we were ready to answer.

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How lucky were we that the last day of the year also turned out to be a beautiful one? A quick storm from Canada trampled it’s way through California earlier in the week. Though it left the city windy and cold our first night, paved the way for radiant blue skies dotted randomly with assorted fluffy clouds. First on the list – Crissy Field. Originally build as a US Airfield, Crissy Field has since been repurposed into one of the best natural spaces in the San Francisco Bay Area, and is often considered the Golden-gateway, or proverbial front door, to the Presidio.

Slowly but surely, we made our sundrenched way through the winding paths and up through the Battery Trail to a great viewpoint of the Golden Gate Bridge.

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One thing I’ve always stood by is that you never know where the limits of your comfort zone are if you refuse to push them. So, on Wednesday – I decided to conquer my tried and true fear of heights (known as acrophobia) and walk the Golden Gate Bridge.

What are you determined to accomplish this year?

Shout out your resolutions in the comments below and let’s conquer them together!

[Oh, Snap] Celebrating the Elements of Winter Solstice in Big Bear

December 22, 2014December 22, 2014Leave a comment

Perpetually enraptured by the bright lights, booming sounds and the effervescent buzz of humanity within the heart of a giant metropolis like Los Angeles, or San Francisco where I was raised, I’m constantly dazzled, delighted by and devouring each and every detail of my surroundings like a fine wine. With a step-mother from the North East and a father from Oregon, every now and again they’d toss in a dash of Corvallis countryside, assorted camping trips with my pre-school, some hikes here and there and some family vacations in locations I now wish I could’ve appreciated in their entirety. Almost two decades ago when I was a wee 5th Grader (…at 5’10″…), I accompanied by my Grandmother to an ‘Elderhostel’ in Mount Denali, Alaska over the Summer Solstice. Sure, I knew that it was the day of the year with the least amount of darkness – but had I understood then what I know now about the solstice, changing of the seasons, position of the stars and angles of the planets, I would’ve had a much deeper, greater appreciation for mother nature and all of it’s offerings.

Yesterday at 3:03 PM Pacific Time, Winter Solstice hit the West Coast – wondrous, wild and incredibly elemental. Contrary to (my…) popular belief, Solstice doesn’t imply that the sun is setting at it’s earliest for the year – in fact, due to discrepancies between our modern Gregorian calendar and the actual cycle of planets, the majority of the Northern Hemisphere delights in the earliest sunset a few days before and the latest sunrise a few days after Winter Solstice occurs. But, what it does mean is that we’re getting the least amount of sunlight (conversely, the lengthiest amount of darkness) of the whole year as the Sun reaches it’s lowest vertex – around -23.5°. Often referred to as Yule, December Solstice and the first day of Winter, the Winter Solstice ushers in the new moon in Capricorn.

Be it my love of a man befit for the mountains, a rapidly growing disdain for the ‘fast life’ or my commitment to adventuring through a healthy proportion of our countries National Park system – but I’ve been on a mission to conquer at least one new park a month, if not more. Our friend’s adorable puppy was having his 3rd (or, 21st) birthday depending on how you look at those types of things and he invited us to tag along up to Big Bear. As someone who can count the number of times they’ve seen snow fall on one hand – I couldn’t help but squee with glee. We were heading up Sunday and after a few quick calculations, I realized that I’d be truly in the elements for Winter Solstice. I’ve never skied, gone snowboarding and definitely don’t own many snow appropriate pieces of clothing – but how could I pass up a chance to really welcome Winter and celebrate the Winter Solstice? Of course we were in!

If you’re heading up to Big Bear for the weekend, I vote you check out Air BnB for some gorgeous one night rentals; but if you’re going up for the day, like we did, meet up with your friends in the Stater Brothers parking lot before you head into Redlands. It’s right between the 38 and the 330, so you can mash the whole mountain – plus, you should probably stock up on some power bars, water, whiskey (don’t forget the whiskey, and a flask…), fruit roll-ups and any other crucial snackables you might want as you gallivant throughout the mountains. We started at at the Thurman Flats Picnic Area, but seeing as the snow is incredibly frozen – there wasn’t much runoff at the moment. So, we slowly wound around the mountain – first hitting the Forest Falls Waterfalls which was a beautiful hike off the beaten trail.

After reviewing the tread on the bottoms of our shoes (aka there wasn’t any), we decided to rent some snow shoes (knock that one off my life bucket list!) and head up to Green Valley Lake. It was definitely a hike, but so worth it. Nature fueled, wonder filled – as I looked into the vast, white beyond I felt humbled and happy, elated and insignificant.

I absolutely loved spending Winter Solstice fully immersed by Winter: ice, snow, snowmen, children scream laughing while their parents threw snow balls. Not only that, but the drive was gorgeous and the sunset – doubly so.

How to you celebrate the changing of the seasons?