not complaining

Northern Utah has been getting pounded by snow lately and I am absolutely not complaining about that.  It covers the rocks on the ski trails and helps our water situation.  It would be nice, however - and I realize that this makes me sound very, very spoiled - to get to ski under some bluebird skies for a change: H has 20+ days of skiing so far and only five of them have had any sunshine.  What's good for the slopes is not good for the goggle-tan, I guess.

This past Sunday was no exception to the weather we've been having of late: blustery, overcast and cold.  I begged off and stayed home, walking Milton, making two kinds of soup (peanut-sweet potato-red bean stew and New Mexico green chile stew), baking (brownies and a coconut loaf) and catching up on laundry.  H grabbed up his telemark gear, however, and headed up to Alta, catching a 7:40 a.m. SRO bus.  From the chatter over the bus's radio, it sounded like they were all SRO, and leaving some people behind at the bus stops too.  When he got to Wildcat base at 8:35, the corral was already more than half-full and there were no available seats inside the Goldminer's Daughter - people were standing around, awkwardly holding trays and trying to eat breakfast standing up.

As the latest storm rolls in

H skied straight through - "Cloudy.  Windy.  Cold.  Snow is great" was the text I got - until catching a 2 p.m. bus, in order to get out of the canyon before the afternoon/evening wave of snow started up.  He got home just fine and we were ensconced inside, eating soup, when the storm kicked into gear.  At 8:30 p.m., when Milton and I went out for one last walk around the block, there was six inches of snow on the ground; at 10 p.m., before I went to bed, it was still coming down, despite my whispered, plea of "That's enough!"  You see, I am not - NOT! - complaining and it can snow all it wants to up in the mountains ... but I'm pretty much over it with the white stuff down at the house.