Martin Shapiro
Brookline, MA
2025, Senior, Creative Writing

The summer days are warm and buzzy, the winter nights cold and blustery. As winter shifts into spring, birds begin to chirp and colors burst into view. An eruption of green stretches for hundreds of miles, sprawled across rolling hills. As summer fades into fall, a gradual wave of red, orange, and yellow comes alive. The seasons in Vermont show a vibrant display of colors and explosions of emotions. Over the 18 years of my life, I have spent countless days in this always changing state, but recently, maybe for the worst.

I have been going to Vermont every summer throughout my life. The drive north always feels like a return to my second home, not a getaway. The air grows cooler and the scent of pine needles rises with every mile farther North. The noise of the city fades into the buzz of insects, ripples of streams, and rustle of trees. I feel my mood becoming more and more tranquil, the farther we get into valleys of green.

I often recollect the times as a child hiking the winding trails of Vermont. A hike I will always remember is Camel’s Hump trail, in Duxbury, Vermont. I was only 11 years old, and it was a six mile trail. I remember the rocky steps and the struggle of my legs, but the view from the top was worth it. I could see miles of trees, with no gaps between. I could see all the way into New York State and New Hampshire. I could see the white silos popping out of fields for miles. When we ended the hike, I remember a feeling of satisfaction and serenity like none other. I have learned that rekindling that feeling comes with being in nature. Whether that’s walking my dog at a local nature reserve, or revisiting the trails of my childhood, being outside and surrounded by life other than humans provides you with an immense feeling of peace.

When you’re cooped up inside, it’s so easy to get sucked into a spiral of worry and negativity. There is no change of scenery to change your attitude, and people (including myself at times) often get pulled into a void of doomscrolling on your phone. Most of what we do on our phones fades instantly from our memories, leaving no real imprint. When outside in nature, you start to care less about the little things happening in your life and you start focusing on the bigger picture: the present. When you are outside and enjoying nature, you are fully present. You are using all of your senses to notice and observe what’s around you. When outside, I start to notice my thoughts flowing freely and much greater mental clarity. It lowers my anxiety and calms my nerves. Everything about it helps my mental health so much, and I’m sure it would for other people too. This is part of the reason Vermont is so special to me. Vermont holds some of the greatest nature and scenery in the United States. It holds the memories of my childhood, camping, hiking, and more.

Just as hiking gave me peace as a child, skiing became a sanctuary to me in the winter. I have grown up skiing in Vermont and the Northeast with my family since I was three. My dad has been skiing his whole life and at one point was a ski instructor in Colorado. I have two older brothers and I have excelled at skiing by trying to keep up with them at a young age. Vermont represents this part of my life and this hobby that I have done since I can first remember. The ice capped mountains represent the time and memories I have spent and continue to spend with my family.

I often think back to one specific glove when I reflect on skiing and its connection to nature. It is tattered and worn out, stained with tree sap and snowmelt. The glove has seen frosty blizzards, icy wipeouts, bluebird mornings, and fresh tracks of powder. It has kept me warm through years of skiing with my family. This red goretex glove is more than just gear to me, it holds the fingerprints of my childhood. It holds the adrenaline of trying to keep up with my brothers. It holds the echoes of the lessons my father taught me as a child.

Skiing has helped my mental health immensely. Curving in and out of snow, weaving between trees in the woods, wiping out in a pile of powder, all allow me to fully relax and escape from any problems in the outside world. When skiing, similar to being in nature, I’m only focused on what’s happening at that moment. I’m not thinking about the exam I have to take in a week, or what I could have said differently in a conversation I had last week, I’m only thinking about my next turn.

My love for skiing comes with a downside now, as I am now starting to see the effects of climate change in New England. There are weeks during the winter without snow, downpours of rain in January, then long periods of below freezing. It is very hard to come by consistent weeks or even days anymore where the snow stays at a good quality and you can enjoy the skiing. I am concerned that these problems are only getting worse, as I also know New England specifically is very vulnerable to warming through climate change.

There used to be a time when December truly felt like winter. Snowfall came early and stayed until the holidays. Now, trails sit green and muddy in January, and I have skied on more ice than ever before. Resorts have fallen back on the heavy usage of snowmaking machines, but that can’t change the warm, wet air. The joy in skiing is still there, but it comes with fear for the future.

I’m scared that future generations, my children, will never be able to experience the world where I grew up in. I’m scared that my old ski glove will merely become a symbol of the past activities humans used to do before the tipping point in climate change. Skiing has always been more than a sport to me, it’s been a lifelong passion and a part of who I am. Now though, it’s becoming a reminder of how fragile our environment is. It shows us with clear evidence that climate change is not abstract. It’s personal.

I am worried that this hobby and love of mine will not be there at all in 25 years. In addition, record breaking temperatures are being recorded in the summers, and severe floods and droughts are becoming more frequent, making it harder to spend recreational time there. Something needs to change to preserve this haven. Whether it’s new laws to limit emissions, or individual choices people can make in their lives, a change is necessary, or else the future of skiing and Vermont will be in dire threat.

Through the summers and winters spent in Vermont, it has played an unspeakably important role in my upbringing, and I am so grateful for being able to spend much of my childhood here. My love for it fuels my hope that others will recognize what’s at stake, and fight to preserve the natural world before it’s too late.

Share Gallery

Vermont: Slipping Seasons