The End of the Season
It's funny what having snowboarding can do to your view of winter.
It used to be that winter was something I put up with, endured, and waited out. Now I'm sad to see it end.
The snowmelt has been pretty significant around the house. In the front yard, for example, there's nothing left except the remnants of a pile from a January storm, a pile that was at one time 5 feet tall. The countryside on the way to the ski area, which I have known only as white and covered in snow, had largely yielded to farming-soil-brown.
And I saw lots of evidence of the imminent end of winter through a day of riding. The steepest run in the place was unusable; enough snow had been scraped away (and melted away) that dirt, rather than snow, was the most visible substance. One run "featured" a circle of soft, slow snow near the end. Another sported leaves that had somehow lived through the winter, and had since been blown down onto the snow. A mud band had appeared just beyond the sidewalk outside the chalet. The dip in the snow at the end of fun boxes and other terrain park features was deeper than ever, and a snowless gap had appeared at the top of many rails, boxes, and so forth. (Not that I rode any of these features, mind you). All around, the snow looked, for lack of a better word, tired. The woods between the run seemed bigger--or at the least, their innards had become more visible. A few clumps of green even appeared here and there. The ribbons of snow in the ski area, once wide and thick, had become thin and more narrow.
The signs were obvious. The ugly days of Spring, when it is too warm to ride, and too cold to golf, is near, bringing its rain and wind. My friend winter, with its gift of snowboarding, is leaving. As today day wore on, I was riding the chairlift alone, and I saw very few people on the runs. It was a melancholy time.
Then I realized what I was experiencing: the pain of loss, losing the good things that winter and snowboarding bring.
UPDATE: Spoke too soon! A few days later, and bam! We get 10 inches of snow, and an extension of the season.
It used to be that winter was something I put up with, endured, and waited out. Now I'm sad to see it end.
The snowmelt has been pretty significant around the house. In the front yard, for example, there's nothing left except the remnants of a pile from a January storm, a pile that was at one time 5 feet tall. The countryside on the way to the ski area, which I have known only as white and covered in snow, had largely yielded to farming-soil-brown.
And I saw lots of evidence of the imminent end of winter through a day of riding. The steepest run in the place was unusable; enough snow had been scraped away (and melted away) that dirt, rather than snow, was the most visible substance. One run "featured" a circle of soft, slow snow near the end. Another sported leaves that had somehow lived through the winter, and had since been blown down onto the snow. A mud band had appeared just beyond the sidewalk outside the chalet. The dip in the snow at the end of fun boxes and other terrain park features was deeper than ever, and a snowless gap had appeared at the top of many rails, boxes, and so forth. (Not that I rode any of these features, mind you). All around, the snow looked, for lack of a better word, tired. The woods between the run seemed bigger--or at the least, their innards had become more visible. A few clumps of green even appeared here and there. The ribbons of snow in the ski area, once wide and thick, had become thin and more narrow.
The signs were obvious. The ugly days of Spring, when it is too warm to ride, and too cold to golf, is near, bringing its rain and wind. My friend winter, with its gift of snowboarding, is leaving. As today day wore on, I was riding the chairlift alone, and I saw very few people on the runs. It was a melancholy time.
Then I realized what I was experiencing: the pain of loss, losing the good things that winter and snowboarding bring.
UPDATE: Spoke too soon! A few days later, and bam! We get 10 inches of snow, and an extension of the season.
posted at 8:30 PM
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