My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,
Font size: +


Picture of a chairlift at Sugarloaf Mountain with very little snow It's All Natural

My youth is pocked and peppered with tiny bits of memories of something called "grass skiing." Sometimes I wonder if grass skiing was really a thing at all, or if it was just a dream I once had, or maybe something I saw online. Except it was the 1970s and there was no "online." It might have been an ad in a newspaper, in the sports section or maybe metro, a small rectangle in the corner on the page otherwise devoted to department store bras. In my memory, there's a person in shorts and a t-shirt, holding ski poles and smiling on a mountain bluff, wearing bright green ski boots.

At the time, I was a young skier, willing to believe that I could extend the joys of winter by skiing in the summer. But this didn't look quite like the skiing I was used to, where your boots are strapped onto boards that slide along slippery, cold stuff. The grass skiing I imagined from the ad I saw was more like strapping skateboards to your feet and rolling in the weeds helmet-free, a recreational sport seemingly designed to wreck knees and cause heads to make contact with large rocks.

I didn't ever ski on grass. I just remember that you could do it at a mountain I frequented in winter, called Labrador.

A recent trip to Sugarbush mountain in Vermont reminded me of grass skiing because although I was there to ski, many of the slopes were covered in carpets of grass rather than snow. The northeast has never had as reliable snow as the Rockies, even when I was skiing in the 1970s, but snow guns help to fill in where mother nature hasn't. You can ski on this fake snow, though it's not quite the same as skiing on the packed powder that forms after white stuff falls from clouds. But one thing you can't do is make snow when the temps are in the 50s. I'll be honest: warm weather in wintertime depresses me, indicating that climatologists haven't been kidding, and that my favorite recreational activity may not survive in these parts past the mid-21st century.

There is still time for this winter to be rescued. Mother Nature could brew up a storm any day, dumping a foot or two of snow on the hills so that the February break isn't a bust. Two big storms is really all we need this year. But in the future, grass skiing may be our best bet. 

The Bitters
Ghosts of Christmas Past


No comments made yet. Be the first to submit a comment
Already Registered? Login Here
Wednesday, 22 May 2024



Daily Haiku


Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  


College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.


Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not


I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car


My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not


It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means


Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes


Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees


Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning


Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

Religion Hand Planes Mass General Hospital Pats Hache Verde Belgian Ales Spoon the band Dad advice Bands I've Seen Stairs Bodysurfing Existential Crisis Imaginings Soviet Union New England Accounting Coyotes Biden COVID midwinter vacations Snow Guns Big Shoes Audubon Bar 1980s Butterfingers Canada Quebect US Senate Eclipse Diseases Stories I should write Brain Surgery Mom and Dad The Past technology Sugarbush People I know Real Estate The Future tambourrine Godfather Grass Skiing Ukraine Smoke Meat Hot Air Balloon Allergies Chowder Vaughn coronavirus The Old Days Peacekeeping Motorists weather Car Dealerships seasons Soccer Europe Radiohead NFL Canadiana Trump Ice Dancing Earth Higher Education Barber Shops Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde Boston College Ticketmaster Communication Channels Joan Jett vacation First World Problems Football TV punk music China Skiing Putin Tom Waits Emergencies the sea the future Skating Advertising Plastic nukes Bands I haven't seen acerbic high school principal Reveillon Roommates I've Had cornhole Cornhole star Fiction My grandparents Halloween curling shoes Sports Spice Girls Ketchup COVID-19 town square Folk Music Short Fiction Things I've done Liz Phair Drumming plan mid-winter vacations War and Peace Soul Coughing Marketing Gimmicks Golf NPR Royal Stuff Bob Dylan Rock Bands Soup Head injuries Work My Estate Yeast Art Knots Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Masks Bicycles Food Brewing Good Reads Texting BB King Martinis Mustard Teeth Syracuse Hawaii Theater Guns and Ammo Bill Monroe Hurricanes My Parents Music baseball Cars Mike Doughty Zoom Eating and Drinking Christmas Cats The future Them Kids Candy Bands I've seen winter Politics As Usual Bunker Wind afterlife Rabbit Hole Red Sox Climate Change Weather Vaccines Elvis Presley Me Beer Email Bikes gathering throngs high winds Scotch and Sirloin Audio When I die soapbox rantings My sisters