virginia getaway weekends Skiing, Tubing, and Dinner Down the Mountain

A snow day in wintergreen

Snow days have always been my favorite kind of day — especially up here in the mountains. When the snow starts falling at Snow Day, our townhome near Wintergreen’s golf course, everything goes quiet. The air feels soft, the light turns silver, and even the dogs seem calmer. We start before sunrise with coffee by the fire and watch the world turn white outside the windows.

By mid-morning, everyone’s bundled up and ready to go — the adults head to the ski slopes, and the kids can’t stop talking about tubing. The drive to Wintergreen Resort is short, winding just enough to feel like an adventure. The adults go straight for the ski lift — a few brave souls on snowboards, the rest of us sticking with skis and pretending our knees are still twenty years younger. There’s always that first rush when you glide off the lift and see the valley stretching out below, the ridges layered in snow and sky.

A few runs in, everyone finds their groove — some faster, some cautious, but all grinning when we finally meet again at the bottom. The best part is watching the kids from the tubing park: bundled up like marshmallows, spinning, sliding, and laughing the whole way down. They’re red-cheeked and breathless by the time they climb back up, already arguing about whose turn it is next.

By late afternoon, the sun starts to dip, and we head down the mountain toward Devil’s Backbone Basecamp — our favorite post-ski spot. It’s a mix of everything good: open space, twinkle lights, firepits, and the smell of barbecue drifting from the kitchen. The kids make a beeline for the open meadow, still full of energy even after hours on the slopes.

Dinner is noisy and perfect — big platters of ribs, burgers, and mac and cheese for the kids. The grown-ups go for brisket sandwiches, a local IPA for Roger, and a cider or glass of wine for me. The laughter always gets louder as the plates empty and the heaters kick on.

After dinner, the guys wander over to the Cigar Cabin, that little wooden hideaway that smells like cedar, bourbon, and smoke. Roger calls it “the happiest thirty square feet in Virginia.” They sit out back under string lights, swapping stories and quietly competing over who can blow the best smoke rings.

Meanwhile, the kids are still running wild — chasing each other through the field with the last of their energy — and I sit by one of the outdoor firepits, wrapped in a blanket, watching the mountains fade into the dark. There’s a hum of conversation, the crack of the fire, and the sound of boots crunching on snow.

When we finally head back up to Snow Day, everyone’s pleasantly exhausted. The car is quiet except for the soft hum of the heater and the kids half-asleep in the back. Back at the house, the fire’s going again, gloves are drying on the hearth, and that familiar mountain stillness settles in.

It’s the best kind of tired — the kind that comes from playing outside all day, eating too much, laughing hard, and knowing you’ll sleep better than you have in months.

That’s a Snow Day done right.