These are the days of anticipation. Days when we spend an uncommon amount of time looking to the skies…and dreaming of forecasts that promise change. To the west, clouds, heavy and gray, will eventually collide with the coast before falling in line for their march to the Sierra Crest. Skis and boards are migrating from lofts to mudrooms. The dreams we dream are of slopes caked in powder. And the stillness of the forest is broken only by snow cats starting to purr, snow guns shaking off the summer, and chairlifts stretching their tendons. Such is the rhythm of this month we call November, where gratitude gathers among family and friends, and the dreams of a snowy winter take shape.
Martis Camp. It’s about time.
