The end of the season always seems to sneak up on me. It’s not like I can’t follow a calendar or fathom the inevitable warmth and rain that April brings. But somehow March snows and cold allow me to indulge my fantasy that winter will never end.
When Plattekill announced that April 6 would be the last day of lift-served skiing on the mountain, I felt the pull to return. Bombarded with email from other diehards, I got my ducks in a row, and headed for Roxbury on Sunday morning.
I never seem to adjust to a proper spring skiing schedule. Just as I do in mid-winter, I set my alarm for a predawn awakening to head north. The difference was this time when I left it was light.