Have you ever awakened to see the frosty chill of a Denver morning where you can look out of the frosted window and see the fresh blanket of soft snow gleaming in the morning light? Well, I have and it fells like paradise. The skiing is brilliant in the wintertime, the snow is natural and the scenery is a bright white sight. Denver may not have the highest mountains in the world, but they are considered some of the most challenging and popular mountains.
             My first visit occurred when I was a young fourteen-year-old. One night after my surprise birthday party, my daddy sat down with me in front of the flaming fireplace and casually said, "We're going to Denver." I felt an amazing rush go through my body as I jumped for joy and hit my head on the shelf lying above my conformable chair. My head started to bleed, but nobody noticed until blood started rushing down my happy face.
             Then one cool morning my family packed up and headed to the beloved resort of Keystone. After a four-hour plane trip, which seemed like days, I saw for the first time the unique snowflakes. We arrived in the small, cozy house, which was built with thick reddish-brown brick to keep the hard to get heat inside to keep our bodies warm. Through the front door was the living room, which was filled with pictures of mountain wolfs and three large, white, soft couches centered around a tea table and an already lit crackling fire. The carpets were spotless white and lead to the back door.
             I walked outside into the back yard and took a deep breath, which was crystallized immediately. I sat down on the frozen curb and listened peacefully to the wind chimes blowing in the distance. The soft untouched snow covered the ground perfectly until suddenly my crazy brother tackled me into the blanket of snow. We started to snowball fight, but I quickly stopped when my brother hit my already frozen ear with a big hard snowball. I
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