We did in fact go skiing yesterday. Not M — she stayed home and wrote a paper, which was a good thing. But K and I and K’s cousin. It was lovely, and it snowed, and I meant to take a picture from the chairlift, or on the trail with the snow falling, but I didn’t so I’m giving you a daffodil instead, with some wild onion thing behind it.
I have not really skiied enough to actually get good at it this winter, which makes me sad. Maybe I’ll try to slip up there next weekend. When it’s fun, it’s so fun. I did improve — there’s one steep run which was torture the first time and nearly pleasurable the second. I think one more weekend would be great . . .
I’ve been battling airline tickets and family reunions and I think it’s nearly worked out. The reunion with K’s family has boiled down to two days at K’s brother’s house and a trip to the beach. We’re all broke, so we’ll drive an hour to a nearby beach, buy a clamroll and call it a day. It’s a relief, in a way, since it involves no reservations once we’re there.
It’s possible we’re nearly back on track, here, with things falling into place.
Oh, it was so pretty in the mountains yesterday. There are still no leaves at all, but some of the brush is starting to turn red and yellow and green. And the hills, on the way up and down, are all bright green they way they only are in March. It was beautiful.