I didn’t even bother posting photos or commenting on our pre-Halloween freak snowstorm of October 28-29 that left 8-10 inches of snow on the ground in my neighborhood. Well, here’s evidence of our second “freak” snowstorm this past weekend, another 8 inches or so. Wild!
I always have to reassure people who hear that I live in Colorado that we don’t wear boots, polarfleece, and parkas all year ’round in the Denver metro area, and that the vast, vast majority of the snow falls in the mountains. Maybe I should live here longer before I am so quick to contradict these ideas. (We moved here in the middle of some serious drought years, which meant that summers were unusually warm and the winters relatively dry and snow-free.)
The truth is that although I don’t ski, I like the snow. Even in the middle of winter, it melts off pretty quickly because of our altitude (sunshine + aridity = no frozen goop on the streets as in Chicago or Cleveland). I like the quiet it brings. I’ve seen foxes trotting up the street, bold as brass, in the orange glow of our streetlights on snowy nights. (They’re bold, but they flinch when they see me stand up and move the shades to get a better look at them.) I like watching the snow fall and hoping for a snow day in the morning. I even mostly like shoveling the snow off of my driveway and front walk–in October and November, maybe.
By April, it gets to be a bore. And the schmutz that gets tracked up the back steps and into the house whenever it snows–I could live without it.
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