The house looms above us on the hill. We will have to trek through thigh-high snow, smooth and even like fresh concrete, to reach the garage door. The garage door shines like ice, like steel, in the photograph.

The is the fairytale house in the woods. I know it well. In the photograph, it’s black and white. Framed by a blizzard of a vignette. Pine and aspen trees are on the left side. The front of the house faces a slope, leading down to an overlook of the valley. The mountains hem in on all sides. The view is impressive, but the bleakness of winter in the upper valley cannot be pictured. It must be experienced.