My sister lives on the side of a mountain in Alaska and on this particular day we put on snowshoes and comically made our way up the mountain. By Alaskan standards it is probably a hill but by our standards it was a mountain. By Alaskan standards it was a bit of snow but by ours it was the most snow we had ever seen. Virgin snow was everywhere, challenging our childhood instinct to plough our way through it. I stopped in my snowshoe tracks when I saw this little plant, breaking through the snow and extending its shadow across the virgin snow as if thinking about that delicious moment when it will thrash its way across that perfect surface of whiteness.