growing up, i was a snow addict. i would watch the news every night, hoping the weatherman would forcast snow. not just for the fact that school might be canceled, (but then again, it was hingham, which was a town that would only cancel school for a blizzard) but just for the fact that the snow would be falling, making the world that i live in a pristine white.

i loved walking in the snow. sledding, snowball fights, and as i grew older, black & white photography of snow. i wanted the snow, i wanted to be out in the snow. if i had a favorite season, it was the wintertime, just for the snow.

when i left boston, i left in a snowstorm. the first snowstorm of a season of snowstorms, and i left it for warm sunny california. that road trip was the last time that i saw snow. until this weekend.

i started skiing when i was very young, taught by a father who grew up ski racing. when snowboarding started getting big, i switched, and never looked back. this season marks my eleventh season snowboarding. growing up, skiing / boarding was a part of the wintertime, part of the family. we would take day trips up to mountains like suicide six, waterville. february vacation was spent most years hillside in a condo at okemo, in vermont. it was a major part of the family's wintertime.

last season, with the move and all, i didn't get on the snow once. not once. and, believe me, i missed it. i didn't realize just how much i missed it until i got back on the snow this weekend.

it is so good to be back on snow once more.