The sun streams through the snow covered trees, bounces off the windscreen and reflects off the dash. The trees are running past by and by. It's the beginning of the journey home like so many ahead and so many before. The music is playing — talking has ceased — there are no words just reflections. The mountains are heavy with snow, the weekends activities are projected onto their sun drenched mass as we are moving and they remain— we are moving, they remain.