Sometimes in ski country we just don’t ski. We don’t feel well, or we don’t feel like it. It’s too cold or it’s too warm. The light is flat, or we just feel flat. The skis stay in the closet, or in the car, or on the rack. It’s a lost day.
But is it really lost? Is a day in the mountains without skiing really a lost day? To ask the question is to answer it. Of course not.
There’s the guilty pleasure of sleeping in. There’s the innocent pleasure of a hearty breakfast that is really brunch. There’s a book to read, a letter to write, a movie to watch. Plus, there’s the fire. There’s nothing like a fire in the country. It lights up our lives even as it warms the living room.
Not so long ago we found ourselves in the White Mountains on what must be considered a horrible day, maybe the worst of the winter. Here is the parade of weather conditions that day: A little snow, then a lot of rain, then a little snow, then more rain. It was, the meteorologists told us, a wintry mix. It was, our eyes told us, a wintry mess.