Her middle name is Frost, after her maternal great grandmother, so it should have come as no surprise that she’d take to skiing. We made our way to Vermont early, the winter sun ricocheting spectacularly off of the wide expanses of snowy Vermont country side. It was one of those drives that leaves me quiet, awed by the privilege of living in a place so beautiful it will make you believe in a god, magic, and fairy tale endings. Keeping it real, by the 50 minute mark we were whiplashed back to the land of, “How many more minutes” and “Um, my tummy doesn’t feel so good.” We survived, hopeful feelings and breakfasts still intact. After gearing up and purchasing lift tickets we spent…