Blue skies, corn snow and nobody home was the norm last week. All my aging ski buddies were saying "well, if it can't be powder it might as well be corn snow" with a sigh, of resignation, as punctuation. Clustering on the bare concrete porch, apres-ski, in their sunglasses and base layers the mood was up-beat among the faithful mostly because of the IPA beers. But this goofy warm spell felt wrong and weird and we all hope for a correction soon. Not really feeling the high in the high pressure.
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