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Waiting on Winter

Powdered dirt rolled from beneath Keri's tire, reminding me of a boat's wake, conditions that are typical of our local trails mid-summer. Unfortunately this isn't mid-summer. It's the middle of December and the wake-like dust exists from a lack of water, solid or liquid.

Early November snows and freezing temperatures put on a show, making those of us in the mountain west believe winter had arrived. Skis were edged and waxed, $20 bills were found hidden in pockets of puffy jackets, and ice tools sharpened. Online, the winter loving community traded information, hoping to scratch a winter itch. A few early stashes offered an antidote, but once worn off, the itch returned with greater intensity. It would be okay, we told ourselves. Winter was arriving, snow would get deeper and ice would become thicker. The itch would be satiated.

We were all deluded.

After the initial salvo, winter vanished.  A ridge of high pressure is pushing against our collective desire. Mountain t…

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