Ready to just let it snow
When you’re raised in coastal Northern California, snow is a big deal. It’s kind of mythic, actually, and when you drive the several hours to play or ski in it, it seems unreal, like something from a movie set. When you only get to see that glistening powder maybe once a year, every day you do is a honeymoon.
That was my relationship with snow forever. Then I moved here.
Last fall, I got into Glenwood a few months before winter really hit. I resisted the change every step of the way. Excitement about living in a ski town quickly morphed into internal whining, and I cursed the slick sidewalks and treacherous roads and the need to shovel in front of my house. I did get out and enjoyed the weather at times and kind of fell in love with Snowmass and Sunlight. But often, I was a spoil sport, staying inside and wistfully remembering that, in my home town, it’s novel for the temperature to dip below 45.
Imagine my surprise that now, suddenly, I’m over it. I’m sitting at my desk and looking out the window, and I’m actually bummed the snow just stopped falling. Maybe I’m simply happy I don’t have to drive in it anymore.
Or perhaps I’m just ready to embrace this town again, a year after moving here. I’m finally settled, in a way. Maybe it’s time to enjoy what’s unique about this place.
When I lived in my small, California college town, the cool things were the midnight movies and being blessedly close to the ocean. In Portland, Ore. they were the brew pubs that doubled as cinemas and all those yarn stores. In Silver City, N.M. they were the green chili and open spaces and a general sense of off-the-grid living.
Here, for me, I think it’s winter. While I spent most of last ski season feeling dubious about the whole concept of snow, I don’t think I’ll do that this time around. I want to get out and love the scenery. I want to ski. I want to breathe in the cold air. I want to relax in that quiet that follows each new snowfall.
This morning, as I trudged to work, it was dark and snowing lightly. It was calm and serene on Grand Avenue, without any cars or huge trucks to be heard. As I looked around me, I appreciated the weather, the clean beauty of all that whiteness. It was chilly, but I was content.
And as I delighted in that realization, I was also walking carefully, working hard not to slip on all the ice underneath me.
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