I stood at the top of the slope and smiled at my good fortune. The blizzard was still fresh in the air, flakes continuing to drop lightly, not giving up. They glittered, dancing about the grayish blue sky. The east coast had seen a dump of snow unlike any it had seen in years, even a decade. Over two glorious feet had fallen in the last 24 hours on Bolton Valley, Vermont. And it was technically spring.