Alison and I did a last ski of the season on Sunday. Okay, maybe it wasn’t classic skiing. It was more like walking in the woods with skis attached to our boots, including literally walking in big ski steps across the open parts of the trail. At the height of our climb up Tarleton Road, just below the steep pitch to Neville Peak, there was still a good bit of snow, though it was very soft and wet.
But further down the trail, there were many spots where the snow was gone, so we skied around grass and sticks and rocks. At one point coming down a hill, one of my skis was gliding through the wet snow, the other slipping through a mud puddle. But we were skiing, celebrating a great season of snow.
A good ski year is always a reason to be grateful, and this year I’m also grateful on behalf of someone I love who has most likely had her last ski, period. As in she is so sick she most likely won’t be here during ski season next year, and if she is, she won’t be skiing. She could barely ski this year. I carry that reality with me, grateful for what I have and what I can do, and holding on to awareness of those I bring with me, those who can’t be out kicking and gliding through the frozen world themselves.