Burnin’ Past the Butt Wigglers

The snow has fallen light and deep                                                                                             Soon will come all powder freaks                                                                                                   To carve and shred the mountain tops                                                                                            Until they sit for a swig of Schnapps                                                                                                  A nip here and there as they convene                                                                                               Then they’re off like a pack of fiends                                                                                            To search the mountain for some fresh                                                                                      And out of bounds for all the rest                                                                                          Dropping the hill for the last time                                                                                                    A butt wigglin’ skier they are sure to find                                                                                        Blowing by him like there is no tomorrow                                                                                        They’re off on their way home only to follow

Homewood, Lake Tahoe

Burying the heelside rail.

Laying down some S-turns on the white corduroy.

Plenty of tree runs, too.

And wide open freshies.

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