I never learned to ski when I was a kid, and when people ask why, I tell them, honestly, “Real Vermonters don’t ski”. I know what you’re thinking; “But my sister/cousin/best friend/college roommate lives in Vermont, and s/he skis!”
Here’s the thing about Vermonters. We have a few rules. Living in Vermont isn’t enough to get you “real Vermonter” status. Real Vermonters were born in Vermont, and so were our parents. It takes at least two generations to count. (I’m lucky; my family has been in VT for seven.) Real Vermonters have parents and grandparents who ran dairy farms. Real Vermonters know how to drive in a snowstorm while maintaining a close relationship with the speed limit. (Here in Boulder, people don’t know how to drive in the snow. They halve the speed limit and drive over the lane lines to be “safe”, which really is just dangerous for the people around them.) Real Vermonters are Red Sox fans, even though we’re closer to New York than Boston. Real Vermonters know the seasons in Vermont aren’t Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall, they are Winter, Mud, Black Fly, and Foliage. We know not to start our gardens outside until May, because the plants will just freeze to death. We know that Holstein cattle produce the best milk for drinking, and Jerseys and Guernseys are the best for making butter and ice cream. Real Vermonters don’t buy maple syrup from Canada or cheese from Wisconsin.

I have lived in Boulder for almost six years now, and I just bought my first ever pair of skis. I am determined to learn to ski, even if it will jeopardize my status with other Vermonters. I don’t know if I’ll ever love it as much as my husband does. I don’t know if I’ll ever be excited enough for skiing to voluntarily get up at 5:30 with him and drive for 4 hours to get to the mountain. Right now I only go to a small mountain about 45 minutes away. Yesterday I went for a few hours with my friend Sam, and before the end of the day I was able to do a few runs on a blue trail. (I only fell once.) While we were on the ski lift, I borrowed Sam’s camera and played around, using our ski goggles as filters. It was a fun experiment, and I got some cool shots to remember our ski experience. I hope to get 5-10 uses out of my new skis this year, and maybe I’ll fall in love with the sport. Maybe I will want to go skiing every weekend, and I’ll be setting my alarm for 5:00 a.m. Maybe.
But I’ll never convert to Wisconsin cheddar.