Getting Thyself The Hell out of Dodge
March 22, 2013
A Different Type of TV Viewing Experience (Silverton Style)
April 19, 2013
This is an essay that was published in the local newspaper yesterday. This is the one time of the year I really don’t like living here and that’s what this one’s all about.
Word Count: 876
Glutton for
Environment Punishment
There are very few times of the year when I don’t like being here in our little valley. Whether its hiking through a field of wildflowers up to my waist in late July, or ripping through knee deep powder snow down that same mountainside on a cobalt blue sky day in January. Notwithstanding, the early part of spring leading right up to Memorial Day can be a trying time of the year to live in Silverton. Seems like right after you’ve had a crystal clear day and you’re just starting to think summer is finally on its way, the very next dawn arrives cloudy, grey, windy, and overly blustery. In situations like this I sometimes feel like I’m finally going to make good on my threat. Sell every worldly possession and moving lock, stock, and barrel to a remote island in the South Pacific. Then I realize they probably don’t have “The Simpson’s”on TV wherever this place happens to be so there goes that idea.
Instead I decide to keep jumping from one puddle to the next, and continuing to grit my teeth. Fortunately I find myself watching the changes as they begin to happen from one day to the next. Those monstrous snow banks on the north side of every building in town begin to shrink. The mud that three days ago seemed like it existed in amounts that would rival containers of ice cream in a couch potato’s freezer slowly start to disappear like the snow banks. Inevitably, my lifestyle begins to change as well.
Most people that don’t live in a place like Silverton probably can’t really understand the happiness you feel that first day you decide to wear tennis shoes while walking around town. Or how about the moment you determine it not really necessary to put on that long underwear anymore when you’re getting dressed? Who would’ve thought slipping on a short sleeve shirt could bring so much joy to a person. Surely not those bozos in Hawaii who have no earthly idea what they’re missing.
For me the great spring sensation has always been taking my bicycle out for the first time. What an incredible feeling it is when I find myself coasting through town with the sun shinning on my face, a slight breeze whistling through the air, and a big smile on my face as I pedal down the street. Then I realize I don’t have fenders on my bike. Soon discovering that I’m carrying a prodigious amount of mud all over my backside. Once again that move to the remote island threat burrows its way into my head.
For the sake of maintaining the floors in most buildings in Silverton during this time of year, maybe we need to institute a new rule? Every individual should be required to take their shoes off the minute they step through the front door. I’m sure most housekeepers in this town would staunchly endorse this stipulation during the months of March and April. The makers of cleaning products would not.
I’ve come to the realization that the snow melts, but the ground doesn’t really thaw. Moisture is trapped below the surface, and as a result you’ve got muddy streets. Eventually the snow loosens its vice-like grip and turns to slush, and then it melts. Does it really dry out though? On the surface it looks like it did, but not really. Add wind and in the end you’ve got mud and dust coexisting. Then the next storm moves through and you have a fresh batch of mud. Better teeth grinding through science.
As we get further into spring I’m finding myself sinking deeper and deeper into this strange netherworld funk. I can’t really do much skiing anymore since the spring snow is now in one of two forms: 1. Boilerplate glare ice or 2. Liquid concrete. Sharpen those edges, wax up, and pick your poison.
Alternately you probably can’t do the summer thing either. Venturing deep into the wilderness isn’t really an option yet. There’s still too much snow on the ground, and every spot that hasn’t totally melted out is still going through its bog or post holing nightmare phase. Unless you’re totally into being soaking wet and covered in muck, hiking up to that deserted mine site is an adventure best considered in August.
So what do I do in this situation? Life philosophers tell us “patience is a virtue”. That’s exactly what I end up doing.
Despite the constant wind, mud, and dust little by little summer becomes more in evidence. Pretty soon things totally dry out, dandelion buds get ready to explode, the grass starts to turn green, and snowbirds living in various desert lowlands begin showing up to get their shops ready for the season. The trees actually look like they’re eventually going to leaf out. The very next day you hear the steam engine sounds of the first work trains chugging up the canyon.
Then the next day arrives and the weather is steely grey. The light is totally flat and it’s windier than most members of congress right after they’ve opened their mouths. Thank God I’ve still got that tropical island dream to keep me going.
