Brett Peruzzi

Last Ski of the Season

The changing of the seasons are always a reminder to me of how ephemeral all things are. Every winter day that I am able to cross-country ski in the pine forest and hardwood thickets and swamps behind my house feels like a gift, and in March it becomes more poignant, as I know it will soon end. Today the bare patches where the sunlight has been hitting the forest floor are larger, and the ice covering the swampy ground is mushy and yielding to my weight, the water rising toward my boots. Will this day on skis be the last of the season, or will I be able to squeeze in one more?

skiing my favorite trail
last week's tracks
fading to bare ground