As I Imagine Perfection ...

My day begins at seven o'clock in the morning. I stretch langorously, feeling the warmth of the sheets upon my skin. Rolling over, I snuggle close to my partner. There's a slight chill in the room - the embers in the fireplace dark, long-since burned down. Outside the window, in the gathering light, I see mounds of new-fallen snow clinging to the sills and railings of our high mountain cabin. As dawn continues to unfold, the valley below comes into focus - a broad monochromatic expanse of rock and tree and cliff and peak against a cold clear sky.

An hour later we are padding about our retreat, coffees in hand, while lighting the fire and readying our first meal of the day. On the menu is eggs benedict, topped with a creamy hollandaise sauce, accompanied by bacon, crispy-fried potatoes, fresh fruit salad and orange juice. There are sprinkles of love and laughter during the preparation. By the time breakfast is served, the sun is not long below the horizon and a spectacular view is revealed in its entirety through the large window by the table.

After cleaning and tidying our cabin, we bank the fire then don our thick underwear and socks, climb into our warm suits, buckle our boots and gather our hats and gloves. We shovel a path through the light fluffy snow from our door to reach our skis where they lean against the rough log of the outer cabin wall.

We can hardly wait - first tracks!

We swoop through the white, our laughter trailing behind us - face shots. We duck into the trees over to the ungroomed outer limits, then it's up to the summit for a simple burger for lunch on the deck. The temperature has risen to a comfortable minus three degrees by this time and the sun is hot upon our faces. The view of one thousand peaks steals our breath. After a morning of breaking trail through the trees and untracked powder, the food and warmth bring on a drowsiness - we come to with the sun in our eyes, ready to tackle yet more elevation.

It's four o'clock and we manage to sneak in one last run before the lifts close. The slopes are deserted and we take our time. In the waning light, we practice our turns - sorting out the odd kink in our techniques. Forty-five minutes later we reach the base. Breathless, we look at each other - eyes alight. We break into more laughter with grins splitting our faces ear to ear - tired yet happy.

Shaking the snow from our clothing, we stomp noisily down to the locker room, where we change into our jeans before heading back upstairs to the bar. Upon arrival, we wedge ourselves into the crowded room and order a couple of cool crisp, glacier fresh Kokanee beers. Our friends are already enjoying their drinks and we join them at the big table while the band pumps out a variety of cheerful beats.

Supper time - and it's beginning to snow again.

At the last minute, we decide to spend one more night and book a lovely suite with a balcony and hot tub looking out on the dark bulk of the sleeping mountain. The snowflakes are falling thick and fast. The lights on the trees twinkle in the dark. Sounds are muffled and our breaths waft thick on the air. A fine dinner at the five-star restaurant is a savoury seafood delicacy nestled in a fluffy bed of rice. Dessert - a wondrously decadent strawberry chocolate cheesecake. The wine - a fine imported Australian infusion. We take a bottle upstairs.

A warm crackling fire. A soft rug on the hearth. Snow falling silently.

Two wineglasses...