First Ski

Well, I'm sore today. The first ski always does that to me. Woke up Saturday morning to a surprise foot of snow outside, and had to get out and play. Went snowshoeing that day, and skiing the next. Funny how a bit of the white stuff can change your attitude about winter. I had been asking myself, yet again, why I don't live in a place with a more temperate climate. How do I forget, year after year, the dreary misery of November? Warmth and light both waning, mostly rain out the window, skin not yet thick enough to brave the elements. It's all self-pity and longing for the corporeal joys of summer: sunlight on bare skin, warm night breeze, grass in between your toes. Each year we have to learn to go inside again, to withdraw, cocoon ourselves in friends and food and internal pursuits. It can be hard so hard to retreat into those small, confined spaces, but every winter we adjust. And just when the thought of six months indoors threatens to suffocate us, down comes the snow. And you just have to go out and play!