Winter, at last

There was something in the air this past week.

Yes, part of it was the white stuff falling from the sky — finally!

But what that seemed to lead to was a collective sigh from the Aspen community. We were a ski town again.

Even if the accumulation was measured in inches, not feet (which is what we really need), the blanket of white that coated the slopes and streets appeared to tip the balance just enough.

From those that were up on the hill, I heard adrenaline-fueled apres tales of “the best day of the season,” powder stashes in the most unlikely of places, dreams of better skiing days ahead.

For those who stuck to spectating the onslope action, namely the Grand Prix, the sense of pride they had in our mountains, park crews, athletes and the sport in general was contagious.

Even for those of us who merely watched the snow fall from inside or while strolling the downtown mall — myself falling in this camp for at least the near future — just the idea of fresh flakes making the landscape white once again lifted the spirits.

I guess, no matter your take on the colder months in Aspen, we all love it to be winter — when it’s supposed to be winter.