First Snow Over the Terrace

Every winter starts the same way: someone in the kitchen says the air smells different, and by morning the terrace chairs wear little white caps. The first snow arrived last night, a day earlier than the forecast promised, and the slope lights are already being tested after dark.

Inside, the season's rhythm is set within a week — waxing irons by the door, gloves drying on the radiator, and the fire tended from opening to close. The mulled wine is back on, and the kitchen has voted unanimously to bring back the lamb kharcho for another year.

The lifts open soon. When they do, you'll find us exactly where we always are: right by the Gondola, first chair to last call.