It’s the middle, and spring seems so far away. It’s like life’s goal, almost out of reach. But I’ve been through many a winter, and some even were fun.

So much depends on your companions. There was my cousin Heidi, the skier. She learned on the slope at the base of the Stierenberg, the mountain looming over a small watch-making town. From there, she skied Davos (yes, Davos) and Zermat and European resorts, especially the Swiss. She loved America, and the Vermont ski resorts were her winter breathing spaces. She took my brothers and me along. I remember the Taconic Parkway at five in the morning, still dark, with the snow piled along the sides. She was a safe driver, but not too safe.

She wasn’t going to stay in the East. The country was too vast, beautiful and friendly, the epitome of Western Civilization. She went west and met and married a Navy veteran. Hey, spring arrived for her; it’ll surely come again.

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