The rain has been relentless. On my last two drives to the mountains I found myself doing my best Brook Benton baritone. It helps me adjust to a March that looks like April. Still, I haven’t given up on winter. Last week, with a chance of snow in NY, and a bit of now or neverism in my mind, I started making plans.
I skipped skiing Saturday, convincing Scott to roll with me to our camp in the Adirondacks that night. More accurately I convinced Scott to roll the dice with me, and ski Gore on Sunday. When I left NJ in early afternoon, I was driving up in a dreary winter downpour at 41 degrees.