Anticipation

Y'all have been drowning in snow but we haven't. Snow hasn't fallen here for weeks and weeks. It's been relentlessly dry and warm. On Mt. Bachelor the slopes have been icy, and the snowpack is so reduced that lava rock juts out of the ridges.

That's about to change.

Saturday night some friends hosted their fourth annual Ullr Pray for Snow party, in which everyone dressed like the Norse God/dess of Snow (or an 80s ski bum) and sacrificed items on a bonfire. No snow fell that night and it was still warm — but the wind picked up. The wind howled. Sparks from the fire flew up into the darkness, up toward the stars. After every excessive gust people cheered and our hosts cried, "Ullr is breathing!"

Here it town, two days later, it's still warm and still dry but the wind, I tell you, the wind has not ceased. It's blown shingles off my house. It's blown pine tree debris everywhere. For awhile I thought a tree or at least a large limb might fall onto the house and crush me.

Ullr is breathing.

In a ski town like this, a strong winter wind stirs the populace. We're eager for the storm. We're all anticipation: skis waxed and sharpened, gear pre-loaded, car full of gas: all ready for the winds to slacken just enough that we can ride.