Check out this photo taken this morning at the Summit House. Since closing on Sunday, two feet of snow has fallen at Crystal. It’s almost May, and we are still skiing powder. It’s the winter that never ends.
The railing seen in this photo (center, left) is attached to the third flight of stairs. That’s three stories of snow here people! Granted, much of that is shoveled and wind-blown, but I’ve never seen it like this. Even on the big year (I wonder, will we be calling this the big year someday?) this last flight of stairs into the Summit House never filled in like this.
Snow has the magical quality of covering over old scabs and wounds. Underneath this pile of snow could be dirt and rocks and any number of construction debris left over from the summer. There’s a reason we call it fresh snow. It freshens. It enlivens the landscape and ourselves. A blanket of snow revives the skiing and showers the soul. Just gazing at fresh snow makes me giddy. Skiing it is even better. Carving through fresh powder is like a million tiny fairies ushering my turns, kissing my legs, my neck, my face.
If you haven’t had enough skiing yet, there’s still time. It’s not too late. And while good powder turns are fleeting any time of the year, the last week of April they are even more ephemeral.
That’s why each turn, whether through powder, crud, corn or ice, should be savored. Every soul has a finite number of turns to be made in the snowfield of life. So make every one count.