Manchester City Library

When I was a kid, preparing for a winter adventure was a simple but bulky affair. First, you pulled on your long johns & wool socks. Next came the squeaky nylon snow suit, with handmade wool mittens pinned to the coat sleeves, the rubber boots adorned with a band of fake fur at the top, and on your head, a heavy wool hat that made your scalp itch. Grandma’s crocheted scarf to cover your neck and lower face were all the protection needed to embrace the task of shoveling your sloping, never-ending, driveway.

But that was another century. Nowadays, a trip to the great outdoors requires a wardrobe that is not so homespun and inexpensive. On a recent snowshoe trip to Sugarbush, Vermont my younger sister showed me the error of my old-fashioned ways. First, she donned compression pants and shirt to maintain core body temperature. Next came ski pants. These were not the hideous, ballooning ones of yesteryear, but were body-hugging, bright-colored and sexy. Her lime-green jacket was of the discreetly puffy Northface variety. Gloves were thermal lined, her hat, fitted and fashionable. The boots she had bought were sturdy, insulated and water proof. Even her ski poles and snowshoes were crisscrossed with designs and jewel-like colors.

As we stood there on the silent trail, me with my 25 year old ankle-cinched ski pants and dull black jacket I felt a wave of nostalgia and longed for the days when a walk in the winter woods didn’t require a fashion statement. I doubt the squirrels would care.

Mary Orzechowski