Warm

I've finally come to terms with the fact that winter never really came.  For January and most of February, I foolishly hoped that a good snow would come.  The Monday following the Birkie I still, optimistically, joined my friend Eliz for a ski, despite the high temps and lack of snow.  We arrived to ice and an ever narrowing trail.  The ski was so miserable that I was almost tempted to sit in the chalet for the rest of the evening.  But perseverance got the better of me and I told myself that I would have to ski 6 laps before quitting, so I did.  After the 6th lap, I was feeling pretty good, so I decided to take one more (overachieving that I am). And that's when I fell (FELL!).  Thankfully, I didn't fly off the trail (that's usually how I roll)   Instead, on the last (LAST!) hill,  one ski got stuck in a rut of ice and the other ski decided to get stuck in a different rut.  I watched in horror as my legs diverged and then fell face first.  The first thing I did that night was put my skis, poles, sorrels and Uggs into storage.  Winter was over, for me anyway.

And now I can't and won't complain.  Winter had one last pitiful effort in redemption and failed.... again.  Once all the snow melted, and the extraordinarily warm weather set in, I joined the crowd of believers that winter was gone.  

Now that the ice has melted, the greenway is so much more enjoyable.  I have been taking the long way home and reveling in the warmth.