Early this afternoon, I drove up to Alpine Trails. When I left at maybe four or four thirty, the Sisters were hidden behind a scrim of snow flurries. It reminded me of the sheer sheet you use for shadow puppet plays. You see though just a bit, but no detail is clear. As I drove into town a front of flurries rolled over the ridge of the ski hill hiding the top of the Bear and Cedar Bowl with the similar scrim.
Fall is leaving.
Winter is coming. Maybe only on the ridges, but winter is coming.
At sunset, a pocket of flurries draped Thunder Meadows bowl. The Sisters showed skiffs of snow on the flats high.
After dark, I went to a friend’s place down in the Airport for dinner. It was raining lightly. When I drove home at 10i-sh, the rain changed to a mix of rain and snow.
And the question, Am I ready? Are we ready?
The answer is no. Emphatically no.
I still need days with shorts. T-shirts in the afternoon. I love our fall mornings pulling on a fuzzy and feeling the warmth as the sun fills the valley. I want that to last.
And I know it won’t.
This morning snow covered the Sisters, Mt. Fernie showed white down to the fans of the avalanche chutes and on the Hill it reached the bottom of the Bear. No more hints of winter, this morning winter hangs above town like a white vulture.
I’m thinking about skis. Boots I’m set. But skis. I need to think about skis.