Seasons sneak. If you’re not one to be tied to a television, you can miss the early indicators.
Catching a glimpse on TV of a polar bear popping the top on a bottle of pop will let you know to prepare for snow. “Back to School” ads that show up right after the last firework has flown on the Fourth will sullen your children and surly your soul with the illusion that summer has apparently been severed in half. But minus such digital signals you’re apt to be pleasantly surprised by the subtle shifting of the seasons.
The slight scent of woodsmoke sniffed on a breeze just a hint cooler than it was the day before. The slinking of saffron and amber into leaves that start to split emerald canopies. The creeping desire to climb a ladder to remove skis and snowboards from garage rafters.
All such signs ask that we possess a certain level of presence; a level that can prove elusive in today’s environment. And that’s why we have the ski resort marketer.
Individuals of such tact they at least wait for woodsmoke before mentioning the best rates on season passes. People possessed of a poised perception that allows them to know the appropriate mark of time before talking about fall lodging deals. Men and women that have the common decency to give at least a week’s notice before unabashedly bantering about all things winter. (Consider this said notice.)
It is however time to find that ladder and head up into the rafters. The countdown has started. See you on the hill.