Wild Enchantment: A New Year's Day Cape Cod Snowstorm

Well, isn’t this a beauty of a day! Thank you, Cape Cod, for doing your best to make us feel at home during our first month. Snowstorms — we’re in our element!

This morning, we woke up to a fluffy and innocent inch of fresh powder. It was picturesque and soothing, perhaps a sign of a gentler and kinder year after the tumult and ugliness of 2025.

Our morning began with this pretty coating of snow in the yard.

We drove to our favorite Provincetown trailhead, and fat flakes began to drift lazily around us. For the first mile and a half, it stayed like that. However, the last two and a half miles became an actual winter storm. It swallowed us whole, and we relished the experience.

Temperatures plummeted to twenty-five degrees. Wind gusts reached 45 mph. It was stunning and thrilling, and I had to capture Sam and Emi’s joy in this longer-than-usual video. (Clips of the hike are stitched together in the first five minutes, while the Herring Cove footage covers the last 90 seconds.)

We adore high winds. Throw sideways snow into the mix, and suddenly I’m back with Atticus during our three epic winters of hiking the 4,000-footers.

These are the kinds of conditions we encountered time and again. It was frightening, surreal, and energizing. In those nine combined winter months, we reached close to 200 peaks, mostly on our own.

Looking back, I wonder, “Was it all a dream?”

At times, it certainly feels that way. It was like something out of a storybook. And now we have jumped into a new tale, where the sea meets the land, and the winds are a near-constant of winter.

This is a fitting way to end our fundraising drive for animal rescues. Through midnight, all annual subscriptions, including gift subscriptions, are 20% off. Every cent raised will go to animals in need. (I sent what I thought was our final note to free subscribers earlier today, but I figured you’d enjoy this snowstorm.)

PS: You’ll find a photo of Atticus pushing through subzero temperatures and deep snow on Mount Moosilauke ahead.

For last year’s words belong to
last year’s language
And next year’s words await
another voice.
And to make an end is
to make a beginning.
~ T.S. Eliot

Little Atticus in the deep snow after summiting Mount Moosilauke in subzero temperatures. I was there, and even I wonder how he did some of the hikes.