Perhaps the storm gods knew that we’d rebel if we got more snow.
The blizzard that was supposed to pummel Denver this weekend never arrived. Instead, it was pleasant, just like Denver is supposed to be.
Not to sound picky, but I would’ve liked a little more sunshine. This is not Hartford. This is Denver, a city that gets more sunny days than Tampa.
Since I arrived here in May 2003 it’s been pure bliss. None of those awful week-long stretches of gray skies that are the hallmark of the East Coast climes. Here, there’s no need to shovel sidewalks because the fierce rays of sun usually obliterate the snow within hours.
Except for this year, which has been unrelenting.
Those back-to-back storms that made our streets virtual ice-skating rinks have given Denver a black eye. The rest of the country is under the assumption that our winters are as bad as Buffalo, N.Y.
Once again, I’ve had to defend my city. All that snowfall was an anomaly, I tell East Coasters who arrogantly assume they have better weather.
They have no clue how warm it can be here in the winter. They think we’re living under a constant blanket of snow. If they knew the truth, they’d be relocating here.
For the record, I like snow. I love peeking out of my window when it’s flurrying, feeling I’m living in a snow globe. I love the way the city looks when it’s sprinkled with crisp, white powder. I get a kick out of watching (and helping) little kids build snow people.
But if I may speak for the rest of us, enough with the snow, and the bone-numbing frigid temperatures we’ve been experiencing.
As of Monday morning, the city had been hit with 64.6 inches of snow, 4 inches above the winter average. We came close to breaking the record for the number of continuous days of snow-covered ground. We had 61 days, two days short of a record set in the winter of 1983-84.
The snow alone wasn’t the problem, it was the way the mercury kept rising and falling, creating blocks of ice that brought a lot of people to area hospitals.
“The sidewalks were very treacherous,” Dr. Vince Markovchick, the director of emergency medical services at Denver Health Medical Center, told me. “We don’t keep statistics on this, but I’d estimate we got at least three times as many people coming in for fall-related injuries because of the ice.”
Most were minor ankle and wrist injuries, he said.
But just when I think perhaps we’re done, cruel reality pays a visit.
Rob Krohn, a meteorologist for the National Weather Service, reminded me, “We’re not done by any means. We’ve got another seven weeks of winter left.”
He tells me this as I’m through with a box of tissues. It’s my first cold of the season. Two weeks ago it was a stomach virus. I blame the weather.
Three weeks ago, when we got a break from the cold, I took my bike out and joined the other courageous bikers who rode over slush and ice along the Cherry Creek path, and rode over to Washington Park, where legions of people were jogging, Rollerblading, biking and walking their dogs.
It felt like the winter in Denver I love. Days later, it was frigid again and I put the bike back in storage. (I admire the die-hards who continued to bike in below-freezing temperatures.)
We’re coming up on March, and the way I see it we’ve had enough punishment. The National Weather Service doesn’t predict beyond two weeks, but the Old Farmer’s Almanac says we’ll get a lot more snow come March and April.
Let’s hope they’re wrong.
Cindy Rodríguez’s column appears Tuesdays and Sundays. Read Cindy’s blog at denverpostbloghouse.com/rodriguez
Leave a voice message at 303-954-1211 or e-mail her at crodriguez@denverpost.com
