It finally happened. Two years of anticipation, dancing, praying, hoping that anything would work.

As if it were planned, the snow gods began to grace us with pile after pile of fluffy, white flakes to cap finals week. We can finally let the memories of last winter shrivel and die, no longer do we need to discuss what happened last year.

Shit, even the lowland ashes that lay as remnant of the summer our state was burnt to a crisp have been covered in a foot of snow.

Ski season is in full swing; every area mountain was in full operation before Christmas day. But even if they weren’t, I still descend upon the slopes. Indeed, winter is coming.

This winter is about redemption, taking back what we lost. Not because it is our right but because it is a privilege.

Humbling. That’s what the last few dry seasons have been: a chance to reflect and cherish what we have now.

It is the madness behind driving to Lookout Pass twice in one day, because I forgot my wallet on opening day. Who knows how many days we will have, but wasting the ones there are would be an abomination.  

I know I’m not alone in thinking that winter break couldn’t come soon enough. I’m also sure that getting stoned and hanging out with their best friend, Mr. Netflix, is an appealing option to many students.

But not this year, this year the couch was left empty. Dark, chilly mornings warmed by hot coffee steaming from within a Stanley thermos. Fresh blankets of snow crunching under four-wheel drive.

The race to the lodge as every vehicle guides its passengers to the first chair. Early season there have been more turns than I dreamt of, and there will be more to come.

Long live winter.