My Colorado: Wintery retreat

By Diane Gardner

I paused at the end of my cul-de-sac and squinted through the thick nighttime snowfall, watching an SUV glide across the ice. It silently settled next to the other stranded vehicles along the curb. I’m probably being a wimpy California girl, I thought. How bad could it get? But shifting my car into reverse, I pulled back into the garage.

I had been heading to a friend’s house, lured by homemade chili and a chick flick. Perfect for a chilly evening. Tempting, but I knew better than to go out. And when I snuggled under a blanket to watch the storm out my window, I gained more than I missed. Nature’s show etched more deeply into my memory than any movie could have.

Before my eyes, the snowflakes puffed up, proudly showcasing their icy formations. The wind whisked them into mesmerizing swirls. Miniscule flakes traveled straight down at break-neck speeds, followed by a steady shower of less-hurried tufts of white. One moment soft flakes performed entrancing pirouettes, while the next moment tiny ice bombs mercilessly plummeted to the ground. Gradually, the once-downy flakes grew wetter and heavier, transforming into something unsettling.

The thick, white blanket rapidly covering the earth made me long for my warm down comforter. I snuggled into bed. The indescribably perfect feeling of being tucked in, reading, while it snowed outside lulled me to sleep. I never realized something as ferocious as a blizzard could come so silently.

I awoke, expecting a thin layer of snow. I raised my bedroom shades to see only a sheer wall of white. I quickly drew the living-room curtains and blinked, dazzled by the sun glistening off tall mounds of snow. Enraptured, I dashed upstairs to discover every visible road having snowy drifts.

I was enchanted. Oh, to have such a moment every year, I thought. The television news confirmed that travel anywhere that day or the next would be impossible. My first blizzard had completely shut down the city. So I settled in for two heavenly days of reading, puzzles and movies.

The third day brought a bigger treat. Neighbors ventured out of their homes, shovels in hand. Everyone worked together to move the snowdrifts and open the neighborhood. They displayed a friendliness and sense of community that to this day defines Colorado for me.

It’s something our busy lives don’t often allow us to enjoy. Yet it’s one of the main reasons I crave a blizzard every year, the kind that shuts down a city. Because then, we slow down and revel in the beauty of nature: a beauty that transforms both the landscape and our community. At least for a moment.

Your Turn
Do you have a special memory or humorous story about living in Colorado? EnCompass is looking for original essays (sorry, no fiction or poetry) that capture the uniqueness of our state. Payment is $60 upon publication. Entries must be 350-450 words. Please include a daytime phone number. Entries will not be returned. Email your story to editor@colorado.aaa.com.

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