I've lived in Colorado for virtually all my life. With the exception of my time here and a brief, three-month stint in San Antonio (thank God the Air Force and I didn't get along), Colorado has been my home.
The times I seemed to look forward to the most were snow days. I loved when we'd get a big snow storm, and as the sun set, the whole world lit up with a dull, pink light. I loved how the world seemed quiet, that when a car came up the street, you could only hear it when it was right by you. As soon as it drove away, it could have vanished. I loved the spring snows especially, with the big, wet flakes that would just cover everything like a monster. One time, I remember walking the streets of downtown Denver in an evening snowstorm, seeing the clouds light up and hearing thunder as I walked back to my quaint, cozy studio apartment.
But I can't remember a time where I've lived in a place where it's just snowed like it is here this year. I hear from the locals that this isn't normal. Normally, it snows, and then it rains and washes it all away. Well, we got a huge snow last week. It was plowed and shovelled, and then we got another snow. And another. Currently, with about a foot still left on untouched ground and feet in piles at the ends of driveways, we're in a Winter Weather Advisory. My boss, Steve, just got done plowing my driveway. When it warms up enough to rain, it just makes everything slushy. Then it snows again.
This... is... awesome!
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