Did the title of my blog entice you to read on? Whatever the reason, I am happy you are here. Sorry to lure you in like that but this blog is about SNOW, not SEX. You’d think a blog about snow would be called a Different Shade of White but before you hit white, you must make it through the gray.
This time of year is what I refer to as the gray weeks, those that precede the opening of each ski season. A few stubborn trees refuse to shed their leaves but for the most part, the hillsides have taken on an old-man gray. From afar, the gray blanket almost looks soft, like whiskers or graying hair. There is an emptiness in the valley and I pick up my pace moving from building to building, acclimating to cooler temps.
Daylight savings is still weeks away and getting up in the morning becomes harder and harder. At my house all of my garden stuff is packed away and even the lawn furniture is stacked in a pile by the garage door, waiting for some strong person to haul it up into the attic. My gardens have died back and left clumps of gray and green/brown and occasional black seed pods.
Most would think that VT is not very scenic at this time of year. Certainly not in comparison to our sparkling snow, lush green summers or the brights of foliage. But I have come to cherish this short period of neutral. It signals that time of year that we make the last preparations for winter both operationally and mentally.
Personally, I could not handle the intensity of winter or summer or autumn all year long. The gray is my balance time. It feels good, kind of like the nesting period that I experienced right before I had each of my children. Okay, if the baby analogy is too much, how about preparing for one big, long, crazy, snow-filled party.
Having said all that, if I wake up to a blanket of white, let the party begin!
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