When I was a kid, I liked to explore the farm behind our house. It was mostly a cow pasture, but my romantic 14-year-old self once mapped it, naming one sheltered section the Land of Eternal Snows. 

I probably made this discovery in early March,  and I imagine that the small amount of white stuff that remained was gone the next day, but the Land of Eternal Snows it was.

Today I walked past fissures so protected from the sun that snow can last in them well into June. Since we were hiking in August, these were simply caves, not ice caves, but to peer into them was to see the earth revealing itself, layer by layer. 

What was most impressive about this trail, though, were the views off the ridge: mountains beyond mountains and a brow across from our trail, higher and more impressive than the one where we stood. I stayed well back from the edge. I always do.