Springtime in the Rockies
Mar. 26th, 2004 03:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
geovikiI don't care what Elmore Leonard says, it's my journal and I'm going to talk about the weather.
I just returned from a lovely walk to another building in our complex. We're having a run of unseasonably perfect, warm weather. On my long way back - I wasn't about to take the direct route, naturally - it occurred to me that many of my LJ friends don't live in the US and may be interested to read what it's like in Denver.
Now, most of you outside the US have a much better handle on our geography than we do of yours, but if you're unsure where Denver is, plop your finger in the center of a US map. Yeah, just about there.
We're a mile high. Good slogan, huh? The Mile High City. AKA the Queen City of the Plains, because we abut the first mountain range of the Rockies. (Coming from the east, that is, which everyone did until the advent of jet travel.) It's called the Front Range, which I think has to be one of the lamest names ever for a geographic feature. I mean, is there a Back Range? A Just-Over-The-Edge-and-Around-the-Corner Range?
The mountains dominate the western horizon and spoil everyone who lives here for finding directions in other cities. Mountains = west. Put us in Des Moines and we're hopeless.
Being a mile high affects our bodies. It's in our blood. We're more efficient with our oxygen than you flatlanders. We don't need no stinkin' oxygen, we'll breath in a vacuum if we have to.
It's about 78 degrees F this afternoon. (Jimmy Carter once tried to get us to go metric and Celsius, but Reagan put a stop to that Euro nonsense fast). This is pretty abnormal, but if there's one thing about the weather here that I've learned, it's that the abnormal is normal. We have no oceans or water to speak of (well, at least not since the Cretaceous) that would mitigate the temperature fluctuations, so we get weather swings like a teenager gets mood swings.
One year ago this week, we got 51 inches of snow at our house. It was hell on the trees. This year, they've been fooled into thinking that spring is here, and the apricot tree in our yard is in full blossom. The fool! Because it will certainly snow again and soon. A lot of springs will see us getting snow almost to June, but it's gone as fast as a politician's promise after an election.
A stiff wind blew at me from the south as I walked, and I caught the anxious scent of wood smoke in the air. This is a very bad sign - it means that there are already forest fires starting up nearby. For the past three years, we've been in a drought, and a lot of the forest to the west has burned, much to the surprise of all the folks that have built houses there recently. March is frighteningly early for the fires to begin.
When the sun is out - and it is most of the time - it's unusually strong, again thanks to the altitude. I could feel it heating up my skin the minute I walked out, and it felt so lovely. We get clouds that are picturesque, like the clouds in John Wayne westerns. The sky turns so blue you can almost taste it.
Our complex here is infested with Canadian geese. We walk around with our heads bowed like monks, but really we're just picking our way through the goose poop. They're pairing up for the mating season, so you have to be careful that the edgy critters don't go postal on you and attack. They're very bizarre this time of year, and sometimes will try to roost in high places. In other words, watch your head.
I love Denver. I grew up in Michigan (the mitten-shaped state where everyone has a portable map at the end of their wrist). The people there are wonderful but they'd be the first to admit the weather sucks 98% of the year.
I just returned from a lovely walk to another building in our complex. We're having a run of unseasonably perfect, warm weather. On my long way back - I wasn't about to take the direct route, naturally - it occurred to me that many of my LJ friends don't live in the US and may be interested to read what it's like in Denver.
Now, most of you outside the US have a much better handle on our geography than we do of yours, but if you're unsure where Denver is, plop your finger in the center of a US map. Yeah, just about there.
We're a mile high. Good slogan, huh? The Mile High City. AKA the Queen City of the Plains, because we abut the first mountain range of the Rockies. (Coming from the east, that is, which everyone did until the advent of jet travel.) It's called the Front Range, which I think has to be one of the lamest names ever for a geographic feature. I mean, is there a Back Range? A Just-Over-The-Edge-and-Around-the-Corner Range?
The mountains dominate the western horizon and spoil everyone who lives here for finding directions in other cities. Mountains = west. Put us in Des Moines and we're hopeless.
Being a mile high affects our bodies. It's in our blood. We're more efficient with our oxygen than you flatlanders. We don't need no stinkin' oxygen, we'll breath in a vacuum if we have to.
It's about 78 degrees F this afternoon. (Jimmy Carter once tried to get us to go metric and Celsius, but Reagan put a stop to that Euro nonsense fast). This is pretty abnormal, but if there's one thing about the weather here that I've learned, it's that the abnormal is normal. We have no oceans or water to speak of (well, at least not since the Cretaceous) that would mitigate the temperature fluctuations, so we get weather swings like a teenager gets mood swings.
One year ago this week, we got 51 inches of snow at our house. It was hell on the trees. This year, they've been fooled into thinking that spring is here, and the apricot tree in our yard is in full blossom. The fool! Because it will certainly snow again and soon. A lot of springs will see us getting snow almost to June, but it's gone as fast as a politician's promise after an election.
A stiff wind blew at me from the south as I walked, and I caught the anxious scent of wood smoke in the air. This is a very bad sign - it means that there are already forest fires starting up nearby. For the past three years, we've been in a drought, and a lot of the forest to the west has burned, much to the surprise of all the folks that have built houses there recently. March is frighteningly early for the fires to begin.
When the sun is out - and it is most of the time - it's unusually strong, again thanks to the altitude. I could feel it heating up my skin the minute I walked out, and it felt so lovely. We get clouds that are picturesque, like the clouds in John Wayne westerns. The sky turns so blue you can almost taste it.
Our complex here is infested with Canadian geese. We walk around with our heads bowed like monks, but really we're just picking our way through the goose poop. They're pairing up for the mating season, so you have to be careful that the edgy critters don't go postal on you and attack. They're very bizarre this time of year, and sometimes will try to roost in high places. In other words, watch your head.
I love Denver. I grew up in Michigan (the mitten-shaped state where everyone has a portable map at the end of their wrist). The people there are wonderful but they'd be the first to admit the weather sucks 98% of the year.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 02:33 pm (UTC)(Jimmy Carter once tried to get us to go metric and Celsius, but Reagan put a stop to that Euro nonsense fast)
You Anglo-Saxons. *shakes head*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 04:06 pm (UTC)And ha ha ha we're 1400 feet higher than you.
It's been lovely weather this week but a storm just blew in, and it looks like it's going to either rain or snow. Which we need desperately. You'll probably get it tomorrow.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 04:14 pm (UTC)