Winter

Grateful for Snow Memories

November 23, 2019 by Nancy 21 Comments

First day we both skied free--March '17. — First day we both skied free–March ’17.

I miss the smell of snow skiing. I know that sounds strange but moist, snow-covered evergreen trees under a sunny sky emit a wonderful aroma nothing like those cardboard pine-scented car fresheners. On your first ride up the lift that fresh smell fills your senses, and you’re off!

We gave up snow skiing almost two years ago by choice. I planned my 70th birthday around skiing for free at Monarch Mountain, surrounded by as much of our family as we could gather. I was crying when I popped my bindings off for the last time, but I knew it was right.

I had made a conscious decision that I wanted a healthy old age that allowed me to take long walks, travel, go to Zumba class, and spend time keeping and playing with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It was no longer worth it to me to risk being wiped out by a 300-pound Bubba from Oklahoma who decided to try snowboarding for the first time! God love his sense of adventure, but I’m staying out of his way.

To be truthful, I was a “fair weather” skier anyway. More than once my husband and I got out of the car at a ski area where the wind was blowing so hard we could barely open the car doors, thought “no thanks,” went to breakfast and drove back home. We preferred fresh snow, bright sun, and temperatures at or above freezing, so a couple of days of March skiing were enough for us. But oh, the memories of skiing over the years.

Last ski day! Jan. '18. — Last ski day! Jan. ’18.

I first skied at age 22 by default while living in Germany. My then husband convinced me to ride the lift up to the top of the Zugspitze in Garmisch because the views were fantastic! Somehow I got down that day, praying all the way that my five-month-old baby boy wouldn’t have to grow up without a momma. Eventually I took lessons from an Austrian ski instructor whose only English was, “Bend zee knees, UP!” That was enough information to keep me happily cruising the blue, intermediate slopes safely for 48 years.

But the time on the slopes is just part of my bank of snow memories! How I remember two little rosy-cheeked boys in zip-up snowsuits struggling to carry their skis through the parking lot because it was time to “hit the slops” as one liked to say! I remember returning to ski condos with a real fire crackling in the fireplace and the smell of chili in the crockpot. I remember hot tubs with family and friends, hot mulled wine, and a lot of board games.

I know there are more snow memories for my husband Jim and me to make in the future. Maybe we’ll take up cross-country skiing again, or try snow shoeing. Maybe we’ll tag along on a family ski trip and just enjoy stoking the fire and stirring the chili while everyone else walks around with bowling balls on their feet and tries to keep their fingers and toes from freezing.

It will happen because the snow still calls to me. This morning the sun came out after a healthy dump of snow over the last two days, and something in my soul said “ski day!” Several Colorado resorts are already open before Thanksgiving so it should be a great season. But this morning, it was enough for me to wake up my husband and convince him to take an early morning drive to a diner for breakfast. Feeling the fresh snow crunching under my feet as we walked in made me happy, as did the hot coffee and scrambled eggs. Of course our view of the snow-covered mountain range against the blue Colorado sky was more than worth our travel over frosty streets.

I’m grateful for all my snow memories. Those in the past and those still to be made! Hope you also find something for which to be grateful this Thanksgiving. When we look for them, blessings abound.

Are You a Season Clinger?

October 28, 2019 by Nancy 10 Comments

You know us when you see us. Those of us who can’t quite let go of the season we are losing to fully embrace the one that is coming. Especially when it means letting go of summer to embrace fall or fall to embrace winter.

We’re the ones in the grocery store in a turtleneck, a vest, shorts and sandals. We’re the ones who keep bringing in our outdoor potted plants every night to protect them from below freezing temperatures because we just know warm days will return. And we’re the ones who leave our hummingbird feeders up until the nectar’s been frozen for several days in a row.

In our defense, however, it’s easy to understand why Colorado residents might be clinging to summer and fall both this year. Summer temperatures and blossoms were late in arriving, and an early frost cheated us of the beautiful showing of fall leaves on trees at lower elevations.

When I left for a trip, the red maple behind our house was just beginning to show tinges of red around the edges of each leaf. I came back a week later excited to see it flaming red as in years past, but no. All the leaves had already turned brown and were blowing away with each wind. “Wait!” I wanted to scream. “You haven’t turned bright red yet!”

In the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, however, the author Solomon reminds us that: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Reading through his reminders of such things as a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to weep and a time to mourn and on and on, I realize it could be time to let go of fall and embrace winter.

What does this mean? It’s time to switch summer T-shirts and sundresses for sweaters and corduroy pants in our closets. It’s time to detach the hose, prune the perennials, empty the pots and store them. It’s time to dig out the boots, the mittens and scarves and fill the hall closet with warm winter coats.

Solomon goes on to write that God has made everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3:11). The pot of impatiens I couldn’t bring myself to sacrifice is almost as beautiful in the house as it was on the front porch in July, and I only have to look outside my window this morning to remember that the coming winter season will have beauty all its own. Okay, God, I surrender. You’re telling me it’s time to let go and move on, so I will. As always, I trust Your timing.

A Winter Beach Vacation

February 7, 2013 by Nancy 14 Comments

This is a classic column just as appropriate this year as the year I wrote it! Recently filed it in The Country Register, too. Come along with me!

When I put the topic for this column on a list of topics weeks ago, I expected to be nursing a sunburn as I wrote it. My husband and I were planning a midwinter beach vacation then.

Priorities being what they are, we didn’t make it. Instead, I keep bumping into other people I know who’ve just gotten back from Mexico or Hawaii. One tan, relaxed-looking friend just returned from Tahiti!

Instead of writing about my beach bummin’ days, I’m bummin’ about not going to the beach. Instead of giving you an account of lazy afternoons spent stretched out on the sand, I’m stretching my imagination to take a seaside vacation to Mexico in my mind. Want to come along?

Are you packed yet? You don’t need much. Put in a couple of bathing suits so you don’t have to pull on a wet one the day after wearing it. Old, faded suits will do.

You need a pair of shorts and a T-shirt for each day we’re there. Add a sweater or sweatshirt for cool nights in salty breezes, a long skirt or sundress for one nice dinner out, a pair of flip-flops and a pair of nicer sandals for shopping excursions, and you’re ready. (Toss in some suntan lotion and block but forget about makeup…this is a vacation!)

At the airport waiting for our flight, you ask if I have my ticket. Of course! (I went back and got it after leaving it on the kitchen counter.) You looked pretty silly arriving in the snow in that straw hat, but I’ll wish I had it when the sun’s beating down on my head.

Comparing books in our carry-on bags as we wait to board, we realize we both brought Beach Music, so I give my copy to an anxious-looking woman next to me on the plane. One decent book and one mindless romance each is all we need—then we’ll swap!

Finally we arrive! As we walk down the steps from the plane onto the tarmac I look at you and we laugh. It’s like we just walked into a steam room. A breeze stirs the palm trees lining the runway and you grab your hat just in time.

After a bumpy bus ride we check into our hotel (sure, I’ll take the bed by the window), change into our suits, and head for the beach. The chairs are all taken, so we stretch out a blanket on the sand and collapse. Ahhh…this is what it’s all about.

You go for a dip in the ocean. I don’t mean to laugh at your hopping across the hot sand—but it’s funny! Soon you’re back and the smell of salt water on suntan lotion fills the air. (Hey, you’re getting wet sand on the blanket!) Tomorrow I’ll swim, too, but today…I’m vacating.

As the sun starts to go down we pull on our T-shirts and get a couple of overly sweet drinks. We claim a couple of abandoned beach chairs and sit watching the orange sunset appear behind the rock formations out in the water. Silently we absorb the soothing sounds of the surf punctuated by the calls of the gulls as they head home for the night.

I feel better. How about you?