As I sit at my desk and listen to M83, daydreaming of my career as a professional snowboarder, akin to those seen in The Art of Flight, the office around me buzzes.
I work for a ski company in the heart of the Canadian Rockies and we just had our first snowfall of the 2012/13 ski season.
Releasing the small child in everyone in the office, including the Directors, we each ‘casually’ walk over to the window, when all we want to do is run and press our noses against the glass, to catch a glimpse of the snow falling around our mountains, on our streets and (via webcam) on our ski hills.
Excited cries burst around the office as the snowfall starts, as colleagues spot fleeting flakes of snow as they dance their way from the sky to the streets. The exclamations become less as the snow becomes more, and the cries turn into an awed yet energised silence as we think forward to all that that season brings.
Heavy snowfalls, clean skis and waxed snowboards. Smooth groomers, deep powder, fresh lines and first tracks. Hot coffees, early mornings, blue bird skies and warm cider. Snow-capped mountains, sun drenched skiing, adrenaline rushes, ski tumbles and snowboard faceplants. Friends, family, slopes and smooth riding all overlooking outstanding mountain vistas.
We’ve been waiting for this day since May.
I sit. I wait. The snow begins to fall. I’m excited and anxious at what experience this ski season brings. Either way, I’m swinging my snowboard-booted-feet as I write.
For now,
Jones x
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