By Merisa Sherman I cannot pull away. I want to ride Cascade over and over and over again. Ok, alternating with Downdraft. They have been so playful. I could actually feel my heart smiling. So smooth and buttery and beautiful, with a touch of graininess to it. But not that chunky graininess that trips you…

By Merisa Sherman There’s dust in my eyes, but I’m trying to ignore it as I relax in my lawn chair. I have to turn my head to stop the dust from going down my throat — or worse, into my drink. Willing myself to believe that a bluebird 48-degree day is perfect parking lot weather, …

By Merisa Sherman There was barely room to move. Skis and people were everywhere, strewn about so that one could barely see the snow beneath their boots. So many people gathered in one place that the sound was almost deafening. The cheers of approval when something amazing happened and the groans as we watched someone…

By Merisa Sherman It’s spring! It’s spring! I can hear the birds beginning to chirp in the mornings as the sun warms my lawn. It’s so nice to watch as the grass on my lawn is getting less crinkly and more green every day. The snow has melted and I think it might be one…

By Merisa Sherman We gather quietly at the peak to mourn, staring out at the Green Mountains below. The memorial service is complete, the sounds of whispers can be heard amongst the constant sniffles. A snowball vigil, a moment of silence, and so, so many tears. Someone shares a memory and another shares a simple…

By Merisa Sherman My eyes are closed and my thick comforter is wrapped around my body so tightly I can’t tell when the bed begins and I end. It’s so warm and cozy, I feel like a sleepy old bear trapped deeply in my hibernation cave. The space is almost like a vacuum, and you…

By Merisa Sherman “We could go that way,” said the skier. “Or that way could be nice, too.” the skier said, waving the bamboo ski pole in one direction. “But we could go that way instead perhaps.” The skier looked around, paused in a clearing amidst the woods, unsure of where they might be but…

By Merisa Sherman I don’t know where memories of the U.S. Pro Tour came from in my mind. I guess I’m just stuck on ski racing these past few weeks. Even though I freaking hate ski racing. Maybe I’m changing my mind? But the memory was unshakable: These guys were absolutely nuts and so ridiculously…

By Merisa Sherman The tears started early, at drop off actually. I got onto my knees and looked directly into the tear filled blue eyes in front of me. “My tummy hurts,” she managed to hiccup out and I had to bite my lower lip to keep from smiling. “Does it feel like there are…

By Merisa Sherman I was panicking we were going to be late. I didn’t really have any specifics, but I wasn’t going to miss this moment for anything. It was an absolute honor to have been invited to share in this once-in-a-lifetime event and we were going to be there. The roads were eerily empty…

By Merisa Sherman It started like any other tour. I had my backpack full of goodies, including the best puffy coat in the entire world. It’s the coat that enables me to forgo my fear of the cold, knowing that no matter the temperature there is a nice warm bundle of heat waiting for me…

By Merisa Sherman We shuffle though the lift line, our neckies pulled up over our noses in the crowd. I look over one shoulder, then the other, to see if we have moved up any relative to the strangers on either side of us. I work my skis forward, just a bit, unable to break…

By Merisa Sherman I cannot stop looking out the window. The beauty of what is happening outside lures me in and captivates not only my mind but my entire soul. I cannot stop staring at the snow resting on the pine trees or even the white snowy shadows on the deciduous branches. It’s like Kahlil…

By Merisa Sherman The sky is stunning, a perfect blue filling the sky. There is not a single cloud in the sky. In fact, it feels like there are no clouds blocking the sun at any height. Like the sun rays are a dagger through the layers of sky. With the below freezing temperatures, it’s…

By Merisa Sherman With big eyes, she looked out at the carpet with trepidation. You could see her tiny little mitten wrap around her father’s leg as she made sure her support system was intact. She stood, barely holding herself up, as her dad bent down to help her kick the soccer ball and then…