Tag Archives: pleasure

Sore and Glad to be Sore

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Apparently over six feet of snow fell on Bolton Valley over the past week. That is pretty nuts. That is a lot of snow. Their total for the year so far was 272 inches when I checked earlier. When we lived up there we had a few 300-inch years. Those were good years. This one is shaping up to be in the running.

I left later than I wanted this morning but I finally got my gear together and headed up there. I was solo. My wife stayed home with the children while I skied. I was riding the lift about an hour after they opened. Come to think of it, the lift I was riding might have opened a little later than the others, so maybe I was only a half hour behind first tracks, but I did pretty well. There was plenty of untracked powder for me to track up. I only skied for an hour and a half but that was about all I could take.

I would ride up, ski down and hop right back on. No dallying for me. Since I telemark, deep snow means lots of up and down. For someone who has not skied much this winter, it also means sore thighs. I could feel the burn as I hopped and carved. I did stop in the middle of runs more than once, to take a break and catch my breath, but also just to marvel at the snow. It was deep and beautiful and wondrous.

I don’t know how many runs I took. Plenty, I suppose. I got way tired and had lots of fun. Snow that deep feels just plain dreamy. Floating on it feels like flying. I sometimes compare it to whitewater boating. Both offer the sensation of fluid movement, where one feels partly in control and partly in the flow of gravity and the elements. Catching a turn or a wave just right makes me feel a union of sorts with the world.

That is what life is about–the feeling of being so in the moment, feeling so part of your little piece of the world, that all else falls away. Joy, that’s what it is. Call it idealistic if you will, or even foolish, but if you do, I am guessing you have never had the feeling. It can come from other things as well, I am sure.  These are two that I know.

Driving home I could feel my sore muscles with every depression of the clutch. It reminded me that I should get out there more. I should take the time to get out there, and I should make sure my kids get to know that feeling of joy through experience. I am sore, but I hope to get out there again tomorrow. We will take the kids, but we will also get a few runs in ourselves, just to see if there is some powder still to cut up somewhere on the edge of the trail. Maybe I will find a spot tomorrow to ride the fluff again, even for just a few turns.

Tofu Pot Pie

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I just opened the oven and slid in a pie, a tofu pot pie.  For those with eclectic or simply open tastes, this is one good dish.  It was introduced to us by our friends, Spike and Liz, when we visited them a couple of years ago out in Idaho.  We jotted down the recipe on the back of a random page from a transcribed telephone conversation about a land conservation deal, and it has become a staple for us since then.

It took me about an hour and a quarter to put it all together, another quarter hour to clean, and we still have 15 minutes remaining for it to bake.  It can sometimes take two hours from beginning of prep time to pulling it from the oven, but it is worth it.  It is comfort food at its best, with no factory farmed critters in the mix.

Aside from its gustatory pleasures and its ability to satisfactorily fill one’s gut, this pie offers something else.  Whenever I make it I think of Spike and Liz.  They are two of my favorite people and I have not seen them in way too long.  We almost saw them this fall but plans fell through.  Making this pie helps keep them fresh in my mind.  I hope that anyone who reads this has had the fortune to have friends like these.

They are bright, ambitious and set an example of how to achieve.  Yet, despite their ambitions and achievements, they are both humble, enjoy simple pleasures and are accepting of even those with differing viewpoints.  Neither of them is content to accept anything without asking first, Why is this this way, and is there a better way?  They probe the mysteries of life and take what comes, even if it is difficult or tragic, with grace.  I love them both.

So in this season where the harvest is now in the root cellar, I sit in the dark for dinner and enjoy with my family a meal whose recipe I learned from some high quality individuals.  And I think of them as I prepare it and as I eat it.  Here is to Spike and Liz, for sharing, for teaching me, and for making the world a better place.

Happy pie!  May you have such meals as this.