As much as I love sailing, it still finishes second to a day on the slopes with snow falling and perfect, powder conditions. Such was the case today when a light snow turned in to an all out snowstorm. It was coming down so hard for a while, that you could actually see the snow accumulating on the trails as well as the trees. Nothing compares with sitting around a fireplace after a long rigorous day of skiing, with a glass of wine or a beer and telling stories of conquered terrain. But unfortunately, for those of us who prefer the cold to the heat of summer, blizzards to hurricanes and boards to swim trunks, a sadness is taking hold. It’s the same feeling of despair that’s present every year at this time. Ski season in the east has only weeks remaining and that concept is difficult to grasp. I stare at my skis all summer, thinking about when I will next attach them to my booted feet. Those who have never skied will not understand that skiing is like flying on snow. When on the right trail, with perfect conditions, there is nothing like it. It’s graceful and elegant; an art form really. Flying down the steeps or navigating a challenging bump trail is a thrill not easily duplicated. So as much as I am enjoying what may be the final weekend of skiing, I’m already longing for it. The thought of another hot and humid New York City summer is disturbing. I have been skiing for more than 43 of my 47 years and it’s been my favorite sport for all those years. In addition, the snow and cold are my weather of choice. The first phone number I learned was the Stowe, Vermont weather phone, it’s still the phone number today. So while all of the newscasters are talking about the first day of Spring and the long winter that passed, I will be thinking about where the season went and which ski area will be the first to open in the coming season.