The bombs broke my sleep.
Looking out the window, snow, heavy snow, fell in the morning half-light. The metal barn roof across the street lost its ribs to a blanket of fluffy white stuff.
This is April.
The hill closes this weekend. Fernival presents another end–of-the-season blast from the past with the dinosaur rock band, Chiliwack.
And of course, the accompanying blast from the not so distant past with a morning report of 30+cm of snow.
Winter returns on the yellow blush of blooming daffodils.
Sure. I’ll head up. Pull the skis out of the locker one more time, dig out my goggles and make a few runs. See if I still turn left and right. At the end of the day, I’ll drink a mid-winter beer with the gang at the Griz and amble home after a song or two from Chilliwack.
And I’ll leave my skis in the locker for one more night on the off chance tomorrow will be the same.
And the touring will be great for weeks and weeks.
