Sparkly Ski

There is nothing like a drought of snow to bring out the sparkly magic of a perfect ski. Before last week it had snowed exactly twice -- November 9th (a Thursday) and December 17 (a Saturday, happily the day we went to the Christmas tree farm). Besides those two days, nothing. Without snow in Wisconsin is tolerable, it even had its bright spots. The sidewalks remained wide, the car relatively clean, the smell of soggy mittens absent. No backaches in the house from over-shoveling (pretty sure that is a medical diagnosis here) and no headaches from driving on snow covered roads. What we've missed though was worse. It felt like the ground was left outside naked, as if someone forgot to dress her and she just keeps showing up anyway. Bare trees, bare lakes, even open water. Not enough stillness for winter, not enough fresh, warm dirt for spring. We felt caught in the in between times and nothing we could do about it.

And then, the snow started to come. Not a lot and it didn't last real long, but we had a snowy day or two last week, and then another few inches and below freezing temps this week. It really feels like winter may come after all! The quiet that the snow ushered in surprised me. I kept wondering what was different? Why so quiet? Then today I took the boys skiing while the baby napped at home with Ryan. For the first time they wore real skis and used poles. Their coordination has changed so much since the last time I saw them ski -- for Elliott, probably two years ago with his broken arm last January. I would even say we had a pace going, a rhythm. As we came to a bridge that crossed over a frozen creek bed, the snow caught our attention. It sparkled. In all the stillness and quiet that a blanket of snow offers the earth, the light it reflects is what captured our attention. We swished over the sparkly snow until the boys' rentals were due back (and Elliott's tummy grumbled). Who knows, it may be the last sparkly snow of this crazy winter, but it has lightened us, and I am grateful.