Hello, everyone. As you might know, I generally write all my articles for publication in Cityview in Des Moines, Iowa, my home. I love Cityview and its publisher Shane Goodman, and hope to write for him until I fall prostrate over my keyboard. However, when I travel, I also like to write for the local papers. Over the years, I have written for Westword and its always gracious editor Patricia Calhoun, in Denver, Colorado, where we now live for parts of the year. This article was published last Sunday in Westword.
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The snow falls in big, soft flakes. No driving wind. No 20 below temperatures. The air is warm. I mean really warm. I’m clearly standing in a snow globe.
I was sold a bill of goods about Denver when I arrived from Iowa. Denver is supposed to be the home of wild, tough, adventurous folks — mountain people who are stuck in the craggy, snow-locked passes for the winter and who only come out after the spring thaw, grizzled and hungry and wild-eyed.
I catch a large flake on my tongue.
Sure, I get it. Once a week there is a snow storm in Denver. Traffic stops. Schools close. Walking is treacherous. And the next day, the snow is gone. We all put on our shorts. We wear sandals. We slather ourselves in sunscreen.
Where did I leave my beach umbrella?
Why would anyone go to Florida? You want warmth? You want sunshine? Come to Denver. “Urban sophistication meets outdoor adventure,” according to the Colorado Visitor Center’s promo of Denver. Really? How about: “No need to put away your shorts.” Maybe not all that catchy, but it would certainly attract folks from the Midwest, where long johns are a fashion-must until early April.
Not being an urban sophisticate or an outdoor adventurer, I decided to go out in the latest snow storm and see what Denver has to offer a frumpy flatlander during the one day a week of snow.
So here I am. On an urban trail in the suburbs tucked between housing developments and businesses. The trail runs past a high school and stops at a park. Utah Park.
No one is out. The winter weeds lining the trail seem to be doing just fine.
I do love a weed. Donald Stokes in A Guide to Nature in Winter, says, “There is really no difference between plants and weeds; weeds are simply plants growing where they are not wanted.” Amen for the shout-out against tribalism. And who wouldn’t want to be a Milkweed — a strong stalk with beautiful pods shaped like small shrines to the Virgin Mother that burst with seeds flying away on delicate, wispy parachutes. Yup, I’d be a Milkweed any season of the year.
On the other side of the Overland High School, I see a creek running dark and slow. Chilled molasses on a wintery day.
Design Concepts was instrumental in rejuvenating Utah Park along with the City of Aurora, Urban Drainage, Arapahoe County, and Cherry Creek Schools. The park is described as essentially a “stormwater detention basin,” which sounds a lot like the sewer drain located in that dark corner in your basement, which may or may not have the moldering body of a dead something on top of the grate. Yuck!
But who would guess? This beautiful creek flows into the park and down a glorious waterfall to an idyllic pond full of wildlife. Go figure.
And as I slug along through the snow, I see a vision. Yup, Stonehenge. Right here in River City. This prehistoric monument was built in approximately 2500 BC — probably before even REI came into existence. Even though I’m thinking this is not the original, it is still pretty darn fantastic.
Making it to the top, I see that lovers have left a few signs of their affection on the stones. I wish them well. Although I was reminded of my conversation with a young carpenter friend who has both forearms tattooed with Chinese characters. I do love a tattoo and asked the meaning. He said one arm was the name of his mother. Fair enough. And the other was the name of his lover. He smiled, “My ex-lover.” He laughs. “That is why I did the Chinese characters.” Wisdom at a young age.
I turn from Utah Park and head home. The snow falls. The big flakes stack up on the ground making a large feathery pillow. My outward bound tracks have vanished. It is a delightful world.
And the next day . . . I already know what will happen . . . where did I put my shorts?
So enough with “urban sophistication meets outdoor adventure.” Come on. Get real. The truth will set you free — or at least free up your wardrobe.
“Denver — No need to put away your shorts.”
You heard it here first.
Joe
Proving once again that there is so much I don’t know, I learned only last year of the importance of milkweeds: they are essential to the monarch butterflies. As knowledgeable as you are, I am sure you already knew this. But next time you see a milkweed during the summer, look on the underside of a leaf and don’t be surprised to find a larvae of a monarch munching away. Truly remarkable. I will never destroy a milkweed again.
What you write makes perfect sense. My daughter, who lives in Broomfield–I call it the West Des Moines of Denver and Boulder–gets up at dawn or before and heads out with her kayak. She’s a 50something, born and bred in New York City, Manhattan to be more precise. Her husband, a dude from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, is partly responsible. Give him a snow blanket and he’ll be off to the slopes, long or short pants, “Come on, let’s go!”
Hi Joe,
I didn’t know you left beautiful Urbandale for the Denver area. I too lived in that area for three months when I was 21. Let’s see some 5-0 years ago. I agree with the snow and the mountains are beautiful in the wither, you didn’t talk about the thin air. I am just a tad overweight so I think that would bother me now. I too am leaving my long term friend of the city of Urbandale as my wife and I built a home in Waukee. Looking for your new adventures in Denver and mine in Waukee. Love your stories, You should have told me more while we were waiting to talk to the Judge. Say Hi to your Mom. Jim
Well I’ll be. I assumed Denver would be somewhat like Donner Pass. I may have to figure a way to visit there. Thanks, Joe.
I also was surprised on my first trip to Denver in the late 60’s. It was semester break at the end of January, on the way to Aspen. The temperature was in the 60’s and the sun was shining. Needless to say, we college students were not smart enough to pack shorts when we were going to Colorado. Who would have thought. We suffered in the heat!
Wintering in Denver, CO. Leave it to Joe to start a new trend. Your story sounds inviting, but if it’s all the same to you I’ll keep myself planted in Urbandale. Where I can enjoy watching the snow fall while wearing my shorts, indoors of course.
The milkweed description – perfection.