Over The River And Through the Woods

In my youth I was quite a keen skiier. Growing up in the Bay Area I was always close to pretty good slopes and my grandparents, who were quite avid skiiers themselves, always had a home near a mountain for the family to use.


But about halfway through high school I joined the crew team and for the next six years or so I had no free winter weekends. And then when my grandfather turned 80 he decided to stop skiing, concerned that irreparable bodily damage could be done if he were to take a bad fall. And as my parents are relatively lukewarm about skiing, I got out of the habit of going. Before I knew it I hadn't been on a chairlift in 15 years.


But this past weekend a free house in Berkshires was on offer, so how could I refuse a ski trip with friends?


After a somewhat tortuous drive, we all arrived late on Friday night, and were greeted with this lovely setting:



Bookshelves stacked with some of my favorite books filled the wall space upstairs...from their selection alone I felt that I could be friends with the owners of this house.



I went to bed exhausted but excited for my downhill comeback the next day.


I got to the resort and, as I looked around at the equipment, I began to feel a bit like Rip Van Winkle. Today people wear helmets, the skis are short and oddly shaped and no one wears neoprene leggings anymore!

(friends who ski more frequently than I do)

The day was largely successful, as I seemed to have sufficient muscle memory to get myself down some decent inclines. It looked a bit rough, but I got to the bottom (mostly) intact.


We came home that night and kicked off our boots,



lit a fire



and settled in for a big family dinner. There is something inherently comforting about sitting around a table (something I rarely do due my lack of a dining room table) eating a home cooked meal with a group of joyful, mirthful friends.


The next day started out beautifully

(the snowy back yard)

but presently turned cold and windy. My legs were quite tired from the unusual amount of activity (for me) of the previous day, which resulted in multiple stumbles and one rather spectacular fall. Currently the inflection points on the right side of my body are varying shades of black and purple.

But it was nothing that a beer at the end of the day couldn't cure!

(Christiansen's Tavern, Jiminy Peak)