Just Like Old Times

            “It’s just like old times,” Art said to me as we set off this morning on our snowshoes.  Waking up to 8 inches of snow on the ground and the city at a standstill, we found ourselves rummaging through closets upstairs.  Where had we put the snow pants and the long johns?  And when did I last see my Vermont snow boots?  The snowshoes and poles must be in the attic somewhere.  We found them all like encountering old friends again.

            Once dressed and with equipment in hand we stepped outdoors for a run-through of how to get the snowshoes on the right way.  After all, it had been three years since we last used them on our mountain in Vermont – the last winter before we made the unexpected decision to move South.  Yes, we had given away the snow blower, three snow shovels, all the extra pairs of long johns, hats, mittens, gloves, old jackets – twenty years worth of winter clothes saved for the long winters.  When we moved South we packed the L.L. Bean snowshoes and collapsible poles and one set of the ski clothes just in case we might use them again someday.  Today was that day.

            As we put on all our stuff ready to hit the trail that goes right by our townhouse and down to the lake I couldn’t help but noticethe crew of Mexican workers that had shown up at our townhouse development shoveling the walks  and the driveway.  “Buenos dias,” I called out cheerily to one of the men.  He looked up startled and curious at seeing us with these strange contraptions attached to our boots. A Biltmore Lake snowplow had already been down Black Horse Run and it was barely nine o’clock.  This was great as we were going off snowshoeing without having to shovel three decks and twenty-five outdoor steps and long walk way and dig out two cars in the driveway as we used to do after every snow fall in Vermont.

            The trail across the street from our house goes 2.5 miles around the perimeter of Biltmore Lake.  This morning the big tall pine trees were laden with heavy snow and the surface of the lake had a thin layer of ice giving it a cloudy look like a window that has fogged up.  I looked for the geese and ducks that had been out there just yesterday on our morning walk without snow.  They had all disappeared or perhaps found a spot to hibernate during the storm.  The trail is flat for most of the way but on the other side of the lake where there are no houses it gets hilly in spots.  Except for one man on cross country skis and an older couple who were trying out a sled we saw no one.  Halfway around the lake we encountered a man cutting up tall pine tree that had fallen from his house across the trail in the night.   We stopped to chat and then hiked around the fallen tree to continue on our way. 

            It took us almost twice as long to snowshoe around the lake as it does to walk it.  It was slow going in the deep new fallen snow and we were out of practice. No rush… as we were out to enjoy winter on our familiar trail. No doubt by early next week this will seem like a dream as the snow quickly melts.  It may be another few years till we get a day like today and that is just fine. After all, that’s why we moved South.

Yet, I was reminded of a truism I learned from our many long winters in Vermont. It is far more rewarding to embrace winter rather than fight it.  We certainly did that today and it was like old times.