The end is near.

I'm afraid it's coming.

The weather is getting warmer. There's the steady drip, drip, drip of melting snow. Bare spots are beginning to appear on the slopes. As I rode the lift yesterday, I heard the sound of birds chirping. And I noticed the trees are taking on the ruddy hue that signals the emergence of budding leaves.

I don't know about you, but I find this extremely depressing.

Spring is supposed to be a season of hope. Of flowers blooming. Of the earth coming to life. It's inevitable. The natural order of life.

For me, however, it signals the end of an all-too-short winter.

Some dedicated skiers follow the snow. I know one instructor in Vermont, an Australian, who spends our summer Down Under where she works as a ski instructor. For her, it's skiing all year round. An endless winter.

I don't think I'm ready for that. I actually enjoy the warm weather.

Just wish I could ski in it.

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