We are headed to a house, inaccessible by road in winter. Set on 100 acres of land, the generosity of the owners allows us to live out my alpine fantasies.  We snowshoe or ski one mile into the house, carrying backpacks and pulling a sled full of all our gear, food and an occasional small child.

As I write, a few loaves of Swedish bread are in the oven baking for the trip. Thoughts of chopping down our own Christmas tree and frying latkes for Chanukah at altitude dance in my head.

My mind wanders to a book I just read my youngest son. Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, of Little House on the Prairie fame, is a classic. Even though I read it as a child, and was a big fan of the TV show in my youth, reading it aloud to my son was inspiring all over again. To live off the land, reap what you sow, eat with the seasons and really earn your keep has a lot of appeal these days. Even though we’re going off the grid, it will be far less arduous than what the Ingalls and Wilder families experienced more than 150 years ago.

If, like me, you are taken with the books and history of the time, you can visit the Wilder Homestead (boyhood home of Almanzo, Laura’s future husband) in Malone, NY, near the Canadian border. One winter scene, from the book, sticks in my mind… as the young boy, his father and two hired men cut ice from the frozen lake to store and keep food fresh for the year. They literally cut thick blocks of ice from the surface of the lake and haul them back to the shed on sleds. Almanzo falls in accidentally and narrowly escapes death.

The blizzards described in the book series sound so epic. As I read this book I wondered if winters in the Upstate region are still as harsh, given climate change. This is a photo of pond hockey in the Lake Placid region.

Recent articles in the New York Times speak of fir and spruce trees dying out in the Catskills, apple orchard varieties diminished and less productive dairy farms in the region.

The Adirondacks — host to two winter Olympics — in the future, may not be the winter paradise they once were, as snow and ice have become less intense during the winter months. Lake Champlain, a popular vacation spot that divides New York and Vermont, used to freeze over completely every winter. Now, some years, milder winters keep it unfrozen in the middle. Flooding from the August tropical storm Irene was a harbinger of things to come.

Despite all of this depressing information, and news that our destination in the Sierras has very little snow as of today, makes me wistful… but come hell or high water, I plan to live out my winter wonderland fantasy nonetheless.

We drove through Yosemite a few weekends ago. It was packed with summer travelers and waterfall gawkers. The major falls are glorious, and fuller than they have been in years. New, smaller falls have even appeared much to the delight of park goers.

As we drove through the park, out past Mono Lake, we were stunned by the high water levels and snowy peaks in early July. We laughed, thinking that we could even cross-country ski in some spots above 7000 feet.

Record snowfalls this winter and heavy unseasonable rain in summer have made conditions epic for nature lovers but also hazardous.

Yosemite is drawing crowds, and visitors to the park should exercise caution while viewing the many falls and swollen creeks and rivers. Since June, there have been at least two people confirmed dead and two missing and presumed dead. The park has banned water rafting on the Merced River until the flows subside to their normal levels.

My son and a group of friends made the trek to Wapama Falls, a wonderful hike which wraps around the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. The photos were astounding, but just days later a Doctor and a friend, both experienced backpackers, were swept away by the torrents when crossing a small footbridge.  Sobering for the folks who took my son, who in hindsight, were fearful of the awesome cascade.

As we made our way back to the Sierras, we stayed at a friend’s house near Kirkwood Ski Resort. I took a short walk, alone, down to the “creek,” heretofore a tiny trickle, where as toddlers, my kids frolicked. At nearly 8,000 feet in elevation, the mule ears were just sprouting and snow patches still remained in early July. I decided to cross the creek and make a circle. Quickly I aborted my attempt. This repeated several times as the current was just too treacherous. I realized I was on my own and if swept away, it would not be a good scene.  I finally found a reasonable crossing point, and with numb legs and feet, made my way to the other side. Not only is the water higher, but it felt colder.

A recent article by Jane Brody in the New York Times Science section offers simple, but useful tips for both beach and mountain water fun. So get out and enjoy the majesty, but respect the elements and have caution!

Big Sky in Montana has twice its usual snowpack for Thanksgiving’s opening day and is launching a twin zipline as well so you can zoom 1500 feet alongside your sweetheart or best buddy.

And if you’ve made your way to Yosemite National Park, the Curry Village Ice Rink opens on Thanksgiving as well.

There are so many choices but one thing’s for sure: winter is here.

One day we took a hike around Fallen Leaf Lake, a small lake just a couple miles from the center of town. My kids could throw rocks in water for hours and then the next day we stood on the edge of a stream, cut through the melting snow, at higher altitude, and they threw snowballs in the snow melt stream for a long time while I did my brisk skiing around in circles. I love the juxtaposition of seasons in California, spring in the mountains is truly glorious; melting icicles, wildflowers, snow capped mountains and awakening flora and fauna. We saw the most gigantic coyote on their block one morning digging into a neighbors garbage can, just a reminder of how wild the area truly is. Wild geese walked on the beach of Lake Tahoe; one of the most stunning scenes I have ever seen. I sent a photos to a friend in Massachusetts, she thought it looked how she imagined Alaska would look; rugged alpine peaks, clear crisp water and air.

I hiked with my sister-in law up to a vista where she had created a shrine to her daughter, my niece Maya Kailana Campanis who passed away in 2007 at the age of ten, following a long struggle with Leukemia. The shrine has weathered all four seasons. Skye, Maya’s mom brings Easter eggs, valentines, birthday cupcakes, art work and Christmas gifts to leave for her, a beautiful way to keep Maya alive in spirit and a part of daily life. Tucked into a corner is a notebook where fellow hikers can leave a note, many write about their own struggles with cancer, others the majesty of the spot. Here is a photo of part of the shrine and the view from the place we consider Maya’s resting place; not a bad view. This time a small bunny cutout with cotton stuck on as fur, made by Maya’s sister for Easter no doubt, had the tell tale signs a mouse had used the cotton for its nest; the circle of life.

I have skied downhill many times and do love the thrill, but have come to appreciate cross country skiing greatly, particularly since having kids. When they were young I pulled both my boys in sleds, wrapping them in blankets, like little Russian Princes, with snacks and toys in the sled. They both took naps while I, in a complete sweat, trudged through the glorious snow; I absolutely loved that feeling.

Now they are a bit older and are interested in skiing on their own. Recently, I read an online missive in one of my mom’s groups. The message linked to an article by Gigi Stahl about skiing with your preschooler or kindergartener and I thought it was quite helpful and funny.

She recommended the Homewood Resort on the north shore of  Lake Tahoe, a place I remember being the perfect size for novice skiers.  I didn’t have kids at the time, but have a memory of making a mental note about the cozy, unprimped feel of the small resort.

My favorite tidbit in her story is this line: “Lastly, time takes on a whole different meaning in getting stuff done. For instance, when potty time comes around, take the normal amount of time in non-ski clothes and multiply by 5.”

I cracked up remembering growing up on the East Coast where snow paraphernalia was de rigueur in the winter. Who can forget those mittens on a string? Sometimes I wish they made adult versions. Now, when I bring my kids back East in winter, it is exhausting getting them geared up just to go outside. Despite all the travails and potential expense, winter sports, whether sledding, snow man building or skiing, are just a great boost to the system and wonderful family fun.

If it’s Nordic skiing I want rather than alpine, the Tahoe Cross Country Ski Area near Tahoe City on the north shore has 40 miles of groomed trails, fabulous views of the lake, trailside warming huts, and everything you’d expect in facilities. Many of the downhill resorts also have cross-country options, so why would I go anywhere else?

Curiosity, perhaps. Adventure. The thrill of new places.

I remember a long working trip to Chamonix in the French Alps when we managed to ski several mornings before settling down to work. And a trip to Vail a few years ago opened my eyes to the desert-dry powder of high-altitude Colorado skiing. Speaking of “desert-dry,” friends have raved about Utah but I haven’t skied there yet, and my many “off-season” trips to Switzerland have whetted my appetite but I’ve never been able to buckle on my ski boots there.

One place I’ve thought about for decades, and a place I’ve still never been, is Bend, Oregon. I like the sound of uncrowded slopes, short lift lines, fabulous snow, and ticket prices that don’t give me pause. And now it seems that Bend’s Mount Bachelor is all over the press as the place to ski this winter. First there was Bill Fink’s story in the San Francisco Chronicle, and now Whitney Malkin’s AP piece that I saw in USA Today. If these guys are pointing the world to Bend I’d better get there in a hurry before it gets jammed with people like me. Maybe this winter is the time.