A Rolling Stone Gathers No … Stitches?

The view from along the Cardrona Road today, September 14.

One of my graduate school professors had a game he liked to play, just for fun. If you presented him with a pithy aphorism, he’d respond with another one that had precisely the opposite meaning as the first. Try it: good fences make good neighbors; a rolling stone gathers no moss; a stitch in time saves nine; and, my current favorite, for every complex question there’s a simple answer that’s wrong. While I’m in New Zealand, I become acutely aware of the volume of folksy American expressions in my everyday speech, and I’ve been thinking about Professor Paul’s game a bit to entertain myself.

Today, as I enjoy a rare second consecutive day out of ski boots, enjoying the sunshine in town, the two somewhat competing maxims that come to mind are “the devil is in the details” and “Heaven shows itself one detail at a time”. In the dark days of the early part of the New Zealand winter, each detail seems to confirm winter’s wintery-ness. Wake up in a cold house, eat breakfast in a down coat, leave the house in the dark of night and return long after sunset, always clothed in layers like an onion. “Turn on the bed”, for crying out loud, meaning give the electric blanket a bit of time to warm the sheets before getting in and hunkering down for the night. In spring, it’s quite the opposite, and with each passing day more details emerge to help us appreciate having moved on from the depth of winter. First, we can actually see our colleagues as we wait for the early morning staff transport. Then, we observe the street lights turn off as we stand waiting. Then, the sun is above the horizon when we arrive at work. We don sunglasses when we arrive at the resort, and then need them first at the bottom of the access road and eventually in town on the way there. Now, after returning to town at the end of the day, it’s actually not the end of the day – the sun remains up for a while, warming us as we enjoy the stunning spring views across Lake Wanaka from town. In September, the great statistic is that we add something in the neighborhood of six additional minutes of sunlight every day here in Wanaka, and we certainly can tell. As they say here in New Zealand, that’s awesome with an “o”.

All of this is particularly meaningful for me this year. Over the past several Southern Winters seasons, I’ve had to leave Wanaka in early September to head home and begin working in Vermont. Not this year. This year, I get to experience the slow wind-down from a very busy ski season and make the most of a proper Kiwi spring. I’ve moved on from my Director position at Sugarbush and aim to make the most of the decision, beginning with getting my flip-flops some badly needed outside time. Notably, the best thing about walking around in flip-flops is that to do so safely requires moving slowly, which is part of the point.

It’s been a banner season for me teaching skiing at Cardrona Alpine Resort, and I’ll continue working through early October and then remain here in Wanaka for a couple of weeks. Some travel, some hiking, and lots of time contemplating my next move (a/k/a my continuing tour of the cafes of Wanaka) is all in the cards. After all, how can I adequately pay attention to the many glimpses of Heaven that show themselves every day here, one at a time, if I’m in a rush to leave. You’ll just have to speak a bit louder because the birds in my neighborhood are creating quite a racket this morning. They must be the early birds ...