Changes in altitude, plenty of attitude
This weekend brought not only the first day of a spring break full of sassy pre-pre-teen attitude, but also the first day of spring. Eternal optimist that I’m known to be, I chose to focus on welcoming the new season, and not on the emotional trip that is repetitive eye-rolling. I’m a glass half full kind of gal that way. Anyway, first day of spring…picnic time, right? Well, that’s pretty much what we did. Only we did it slope-side.
Because one of the key benefits of waiting until mid-March to hit the slopes for the first time is the beautiful sunshiny weather. And really, with skies so blue and trees so green the dark brown stink eye from my eight-year old pretty much just rolled right off my back.
Once we sat out the time-outs and got the group up the mountain, there really were no complaints from the happy campers. At least during the second and a half that it took to snap this picture.
Even old grouchy eyes set her attitude aside for a little while. Long enough to flash me this smile on the chairlift.
With smiles all around we thought it best to call it quits on the early side, get out before things got ugly. Theoretically that is. We actually called it quits when they sank down into the mashed potato-like late season snow and couldn’t muster the power to get back up. The whiny sirens of tired children rang out across the mountain-tops, and we packed it in.
Which got us back home with plenty of time to hit the yard and get down to work. We raked and snipped and watered and cut back the beautiful dried grasses so that now everything looks pretty awful. Dried out and shriveled up and just waiting. Brown ugly springtime. Well, except for the rhubarb. I know rhubarb and I have our history, but I really have come to love this stuff. It’s predictable. It’s tasty. And up it pops, no matter what—
The raspberries are putting out their buds too. It is interesting that even as I renew my pledge to pay more attention to the healthy vegetables in my life, it is the sweet dessert ingredients that never fail me. They require nothing, and they deliver year after year insisting only that I promise to eat my dessert.
And that’s a promise I’m willing to make.