Heaven is home. Utopia is here. Nirvana is now.
-- Edward Abbey
The Abbey Party was quite memorable this year, and not just because it was the 25th annual. If not for the fact that our tribe of river rats and ski bums were celebrating a quarter century of celebrating the passing of Edward Abbey, then it was memorable for the snow. And the graupel. And the sleet. And the cold.
Given those inclement conditions, our usual turnout for this year's Abbey Party (tagline: "A friendly, festive gather at which traditional social niceties are dispensed with, and the stated purpose is a philosophical and garrulous drunk.") was only fraction of the usual contingent looking to get together to bid adieu to winter and say "let's do!" to the coming summer -- which, of course, is what the annual Abbey Party is really about.
But that's okay. Because those who did join in (and you know whom I'm talking about, people!) got to experience ... snow, graupel, sleet, and cold. And a generally grand time standing around a big fire, bundled in piles o' pile, talking and laughing and drinking and playing music and getting all garrulous and philosophical together in the elements.
And then gathering in a big group of like-minded types and drink beer, etc., and celebrate it.
Abbey, I suspect, would approve.