In the high country, winter doesn't end by the calendar. It's more fundamental. Like, how deep is the snow pack? But the train of storms has stopped, and the daytime high temperatures creep above freezing. And the water starts to flow from the snow banks and into the creeks. Spring will come slowly; it will be June before fields of green and yellow flowers cover the hills and herders move the sheep up from Nevada. The skiers morn and redouble their runs. Only weeks to go in the season before the lifts shut down and the season pass is hung on the wall with the rest. Slack. Mud season. Time to tune the mountain bike.
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