E. Boyer
Such boastful ways, you Tahoe’s winter..tisk, tisk, have you no shame? Surely, you’ve met the likes of your alter ego, summer. When one can find no match for your majestic snow covered peaks, they’re taken aback upon discovery of your charming sister season. With disarming wiles and beauty beyond description…our love for her can come as no surprise. It took only the Summer of Tahoe to render Aphrodite a pouting runner-up. And poor, poor Botticelli…even The Birth of Venus seemed a little less somehow.
Make way, you harried race to the lift lines! Afternoons of toe dipping at the dock’s edge are ambitious enough. The drudging along with skis and poles seems foolish now as we make our way to the lake with nothing more than a haphazardly towel. Winter’s gravy-laden pot roasts and potatoes seem commonplace when compared to the whimsy of a Tahoe summer dinner… an assortment of foraged snacks, chips, olives and bits of cheese among them, punctuated with old friends Ben & Jerry...1 pint, 3 spoons. No, no, the après-ski bourbon- soaked boast of traversing downhill in the latest hi-tech equipment is no match for the crawdad trappers who are truly skilled, catching the days quota with only a string and a scrap of bacon. So, shush, you bragging skiers! It’s the thermos of coffee at the end of the dock on a glassy morning lake that really steals the show. Let the insulated Obermeyer and Burton garb stuff the trunks of winter. The effortless grace of an ancient Turkey Trot t-shirt and grocery store flip-flops are Tahoe summer’s only requirement.
