Thursday, April 5, 2012

Season's End

It's hard to believe the ski season is over.  Even after that week of 70-degree weather in mid-March, I still kept thinking that we had more time.  But despite the relatively early thaw this year, I think I feel that way every year: I anxiously anticipate the first ski day all fall, and when it finally comes, it seems like I've got so much wonderful time ahead of me to play in the snow.  Then the holidays come, then February vacation, and next thing you know the days start to get longer and warmer.  

Bridget and I went on a girls-only mission to Bretton Woods for the final day of the season.  It seemed that lately Dad was the one who had been taking her skiing, and I was eager to see how her skiing had progressed and have some one-on-one time with her. 
We met up with our friend Susan for a run, and Bridget followed me down Bretton's Wood with big arcing turns.  I stopped every once in a while to see if she wanted to take a break, but no, she was ready to cruise on.  I was happy to see that as she turned, she was using her weight to begin to carve turns, rather than just relying on the power-wedge to slow her down.

On Sawyer's Swoop, Bridget watched as some of the older kids scooted across some bare spots where the trail had narrowed, and decided that looked like fun.  She took off ahead of me, and before I could say a word, she headed full-speed, straight for the grassy section.  Her skis flew off and she landed superman-style across the water-drenched grass.  I think she was more suprised than anything else and quickly got up and I helped her put her skis back on.  Before I could click back into my bindings, she was already skiing off down the trail. I'm guessing this is only the beginning of that independent side showing through.

After a few runs, we enjoyed a hot dog on the deck in honor of Bretton Woods Beach Party as we watched the big kids hurl themsleves through the air and onto the Acrobag.  Bridget was intrigued, but I think because it resembled a bouncy-house to her.   She wasn't quite ready to aspire to big air, but she's got her eye on bigger skiing conquests.  "Mommy, when I get big, like five years old, can I ski from the top of the mountain all by myself?" 

"We'll see how we do next year, I promise, Bridget."

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