When I left the mountain back in September before all my travels, it was early autumn, warm enough to hike with only a light jacket. There were spots of fall color, but the majority of trees still had the majority of their leaves, and the aspen outside our front window hadn’t even given up its suit of summer green yet.
On my return, it was early winter. The aspen was bare, as were the tamaracks across the way. A few inches of snow dusted trees and slopes and roads alike. When we walked down to the village to get our mail, we passed creeks that were starting to ice up. I found it a bit disconcerting to have missed the gradual change from one state to the other— the drive north from Florida wasn’t sufficient to get me acclimated.
In the few weeks since we got back, it’s just gotten more and more wintery, which is of course what we, as skiers, want. Sometimes the clouds roll in and parts of the mountain just disappear. This was the view out our front window a couple days ago.
We could still use some more snow on the slopes, so I’m hoping for more clouds to roll on through, preferably on nights when I don’t have things to do in town or city the next morning. Yes, I can drive down the mountain road when it’s snowing, but I’d just as soon not have to. I’d rather be skiing in it.
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