Realized, it's a dead time for concerts during a Colorado Winter. I don't know if it's me, but I feel like I haven't seen anything worthwhile since October. That's about to change though.
As I stood on the top of Spaulding Bowl Tuesday morning, I felt completely ensconced in Ski Season. The moment could not be any better. On the fourth day of a marvelous Spring Break--having already skied Copper, Keystone and Breckenridge, the heavy clouds from the Sierra's building fiercely--with my skis perched at the top of the world, I enjoyed the best run I had all season. There was one other that gave it stern competition, but in the end it is clear. That morning, my father woke with joy, as his heart was pining for a blue sky powder day. And he was granted his wishes. Already planning on meeting up with Hugo for some turns at Copper, I also had the pleasure of Frank's grateful presence. With hope in our hearts, we connected at the Super Bee base and, although there are no friends on a powder day, we recounted our stories for the ride up. The decision was made to journey up the Poma. The sky glowed blue with a handful of cloud dots. The rope was down, but the patrollers guarding it smartly promised it to be for only a few minutes. We waited in a crowd that grew from seven to about 30. The Bowl had been closed the day before as two and a half feet dropped on the head of the peak. A patroller through a stick of dyanmite over the cornice. "There will be a loud noise," he promised. The snow held. "Make them wait about sixty seconds," the call came over the Walkie Talkier. Thirty pairs of knees tensed. After interminal waiting, another call: "Unleash the hounds." The rope was dropped: "have fun guys." And we were off. White ribbon stretched before us. I cut to the group's right and released into powder that rode above my waist and sprayed my goggles. Once again, time stood still. At the bottom, the energy was boundless. A ride through the trees and three further pursuits of ridable perfection, and the first part of the day was done. After, I closed out with my family on a series of groomers. By suppertime, I felt that ski season had peaked. It's time for Concert Season.
In fact, kicking off the Denver Concert Season, as they did last year, is Trampled by Turtles. Friday, I will see them at the Ogden as part of Frank's Great Last Day In Denver.
Tomorrow, I will buy my first Red Rocks tickets in a year. When I saw the announcement for My Morning Jacket, I knew where I would be on April 4. There are few if any bands that I would want to see at Red Rocks over the Jacket. Not only do I have the perfect hoodie for the occasion, but their music will fit the venue perfectly. I can already see myself parked in the lot, cool breeze blowing perfectly and a frisbee floating through the air.
