Dreamtime

The beauty of brown

If you are an avid powder skier, you might receive a catalog called Dreamtime from DPS skis. Coming in the middle of the summer, it is filled with beautiful photography of intense lines, snowy white mountains and, of course, skiing. Summer, according to DPS, is a time to dream of the snow filled months.


I disagree. In my ideal world, there would be two days of great powder skiing in the middle of August and 48 hours of warm sunshine in March. Other than that request, I'd say summer is amazing and I would hate to spend it fantasizing about snow days. The real dreamtime, at least for me, starts in late fall. When the leaves start to slightly decay on the ground, the world is turned into a kaleidoscope of horse hair browns and the sky is constantly threatening to let loose. It's dreamtime, an exceedingly under-appreciated time of the year.



I think it's here, dreamtime has officially begun.


I was running around frantically this morning trying to find something, when I walked into the basement and was greeted by the lovely sight of all my winter clothing. I had put the majority of my winter hats, gloves and coats in storage over the summer. When I saw it, I was actually so excited and overwhelmed with excitement that I hauled it upstairs and hung it all up. You have no idea how much I can miss my favorite hot pink headband. It wasn't the headband I missed, I guess, but what it stood for. Last winter, although very fun, was the worst winter we've had in seventy years. I realize now that I really really missed it. I had some good turns, some amazing skates, a few beautiful classics, but let me tell you, I am ready for a hardcore year this year. Come on El Nino...


We were getting ready for a trail run this past week and somebody there was wearing a puffy. Down puffys, as everyone should know, are the essence of good times. My teammate was wearing five layers on our roller ski a few days ago (one layer was a vest, which I consider to be almost as much of a waste of time as soup, but that is another story.) There is even a dusting of snow as I sit here writing this.

It is a frustratingly hard season to deal with. After having spent a hour and a half shivering as the wind cuts straight through my jacket and my knuckles are raw from the cold, I understand how easy it is to denounce this grey/brown season. There are no leaves and no snow. It's too muddy to do anything. The chilly weather has your entire body in shock and wondering how you are supposed to survive December. Skiing is just out of reach as summer gives its last feeble attempts at sunshine on the frostbitten earth. You feel like you are caught in the crossfire on a seasonal battlefield with a predetermined and maybe not-so-welcome winner. Everyone around you is catching the cold...


But if you think of it as dreamtime, everything becomes much more manageable. Maybe it's cold and muddy and brown...but it's an amazing season for great books, warm blankets and crackling fires. It's the season of winter clothing and snow flurries. It's a season for bubble baths, cornbread and pumpkin flavored everything. It's candlelit windows and loud music. Most of all, it's a time to dream. To dream of everything and anything...because what else is there to do in mud season, really?


Dream on,
Victoria