A bitter chill whipped my face as I opened the habitation door. Instinct told me to retreat to the warmth of our motorhome, a haven from the extreme cold that had descended on the valley, yet the huge allure of a landscape swaddled in fresh snow was too much to resist.
This was the winter wonderland I dreamt of waking up to as a boy, only to find the fields around our farmhouse were the same old green.
Thick snow scrunched underneath my boots, with the sun still to rise over the cirque of jagged peaks surrounding our campsite, nestled in a pine forest at the foot of the majestic Piz Armentarola.
With my hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea, I took a moment to savour the peace and the sheer beauty of a scene transformed by winter’s touch, noticing features of the mountains that had not been visible on our previous visit here, several months earlier.
