Open letter to Ullr

I’m petitioning to bring winter back to Durango.
I have always loved winter. I was born in the winter and felt special because of the snow. Some of my earliest memories are of winter, driving in the snow with my mom watching the flakes whirl and fly. I was maybe 3 years old, my sister was not yet born. I recall the year my brother was born; school was cancelled and we “helped” my dad shovel (really we jumped in large piles of snow). The snow was so deep that year that walking down the driveway was like going through a tunnel. When I was older, snow meant skiing laps at Hillcrest Golf Course with the Durango Nordic Ski team as the sun set behind the La Plata Mountains.

I like winter clothes. I prefer jeans, sweatshirts, tights, boots, Carhartts and puffy jackets to shorts and sundresses. I like alpenglow in the evening and crisp winter mornings. I like them so much that I start to sound like Julie Andrews; but these are a few of my favorite things.

I was especially spoiled to have grown up with Colorado winters. Montana winters were more cruel (as I found out after I moved there for school) with meager snow that did not melt for months and winds that blew across the frozen ground exposing patches of dead grass. I did not experience mean cold until I moved to Montana, nor did I experience spring fever. I’ve never since seen so many pale kids underdress for 45 degree temps and sunny skies.

And yes, maybe I’m a little bitter. I spent the last good Durango snow years (2008 and 2009) in Montana wishing I was in Colorado. Though we are in a drought, I cannot simply appreciate that the skiing is better than it should be and that the avalanche danger is low. I will not simply be happy with this mild, sunny, brown, boring winter.

I cannot find that silver lining because, frankly, there isn’t a snow cloud in the sky. I want cancelled schools and buried cars! I want to ski in town and walk my dog without her getting muddy, and snow plowed in the middle of streets with icicles over windows! I want to wear my new snow boots and not feel too warm in my jacket. I don’t think that’s unreasonable to ask for in January.

To those of you who think the current weather is “nice” and to the others who are somehow complaining about the cold: SHUT IT! You are both wrong. Sure, if this was November, I would sympathize with the individual who may not be resigned to wearing his or her winter coat. And if this was March after a long, snowy winter I would say, go ahead! Soak up that vitamin D and feel the warmth of the spring sun. But this is January.

 I’ll say it again: January. So you can start using the dog calendar you received from your aunt for Christmas, because the New Year has begun, even if it’s blowing more dust than snowflakes.

Perhaps you think this is the natural order because you just moved here from California, or you are indifferent because it means you won’t have to shovel your sidewalk and your car and your roof. It’s not normal, and you should care.

You should care because studies have shown that there is a direct relationship between the rapid spreading of the mountain pine beetle – the destroyer of trees along the western Rocky Mountains up to Canada – and the failure of recent temperatures to drop low enough to kill the larvae. And those beetle trees look gross, especially without any snow on them.  

Durango is normally a very attractive town, more attractive than most. I’d say Durango usually ranks as a solid nine on the beauty scale just behind the Norwegian fjords and the Irish Cliffs of Moher. But not right now. Like a movie star caught without her makeup on after a Golden Globes party, Durango is looking a little haggard. Her mascara is smudged, the harsh light shows all her wrinkles, and she stepped in dog poo! We need some pretty, white snow to hide the poo, to soften the lines, to add a quiet beauty to this bustling mountain town.

Aesthetic beauty aside, Durango needs snow for the health of its mountains and rivers – and the healthy economy of its residents largely depends on both. Those train riders to whom we faithfully wave our hands and flash our buttocks come for the beauty of the mountains. But like most beauty, ours depends on health. Strong flowing rivers, green hillsides and a marked absence of forest fires ensure that those cameras continue to click, even if it’s an artificial click made by phones.

We all need the snow: boaters, skiers, hikers, bikers, climbers, couch potatoes, and dog walkers alike.

So do your snow dance. Drink to Ullr, Norse god of snow. Show him tribute. Sign my petition so that he remembers that we exist. I can think of nothing else to do.
– Maggie Casey