Sitting complacently in my camping chair staring down at the remains of the lobster I’d just devoured, an involuntary smile spread across my face from ear to ear.
Out west, our brethren are still reaping the spoils of “Miracle March,” posting powder photos on Instagram, but in this moment I felt no envy. Here I was in shorts and a t-shirt, sitting in a parking lot at Sunday River enjoying a lobster boil and a cold beer in between sessions of soft, sun-soaked spring skiing.
I love powder as much as the next ski junkie, but this past weekend in Maine was about as good as it gets.
