Shifting Seasons at 9,318 Feet: Family, Rituals, and Winter Prep in Silverton

Winter Clothes and Family Rituals

This past weekend, Phen came home for the first time since heading off to boarding school. It was so nice. My mama's heart felt regulated for the first time since he left, with all my babies under the same roof. Knowing the next time he might be home is Christmas — and that he will certainly need his winter gear before then — we had an annual hurdle to tackle.

The dreaded-but-necessary task of the season was waiting for us: the winter clothes overhaul. Every fall, it feels like this ritual sneaks up too soon, but we all know it has to be done.

We pulled down the winter clothing bins (the amount is absurd), spread coats and ski pants across the floor, and dove into the process: try it on, make a pile, argue, laugh, and groan. Hand-me-downs for later, storage for the outgrown gear, a keep-pile that somehow never feels big enough.

My boys grow like weeds, so I can’t bring myself to part with the extras our ski guide friends pass down. Even if a pair of pants seems too big now, I know it’s only a matter of time. And then there’s Alida, who gets the rag-tied, third-child-worn wear — and doesn’t seem to mind a bit. She wears these patched and re-patched pieces like a rite of passage from her big brothers, proud to carry on the tradition of clothes with stories stitched into them.

It’s not exactly fun — the whole moving-the-clothes-down-the-line process — but it’s family time, and it needs to happen. And like so many mountain rituals, it’s less about the task itself and more about what it signals: the shift of the season.

The Physical Prep

Silverton, in late September, has a kind of clipped urgency to its pace. Days are shorter, evenings colder, and the golden aspens on the hillsides are a daily reminder that winter is on its way. I used to joke that fall could begin in the morning and be over by nightfall. After growing up in the East — where the leaves blaze for months — our two- or three-week window (if we’re lucky) feels like a single snapshot in time.

Preparing here means thinking months ahead. Firewood always comes first. Before we renovated the house in 2019, we’d burn through 14–15 cords of wood in a winter. Ridiculous. (As a side note: the first winter we lived here, and I was pregnant, my water glass would freeze overnight. Our house hovered at 60 degrees on its best day, and hats were practically glued to our heads.) These days, with insulation, we get by on 4–5 cords — and while I can finally take off my beanie, I still refuse to part with my slippers. Even now, the stacked logs look like a mountain, but nothing compares to the comfort of knowing you’ll be warm in February. Such a luxury.

Wooding + food prepping for the winter.

Next comes yard cleanup. Anything left out will be buried under snow until spring — or wrecked by the weight of it. My mushroom-shaped solar lights, which I scatter around the yard each summer, will soon be gathered up and tucked away. They’re silly and cheerful, and every spring when I set them out again, they remind me of hope and light returning. My sunflowers — babied indoors for weeks, guarded with juice-bottle shields against chipmunks, then transplanted outside — barely bloom in early September. I’ve been covering them these past freezing nights, trying to stretch out their short-lived glory. The yin and yang of this climate: beauty that arrives late, stays briefly, and feels all the more precious for it.

Food prep is its own mini-season. We’ve been drying apples and peaches, filling jars and bins with snacks to get us through ski days and school lunches. At the same time, I’m cleaning out the freezer in case Steve is lucky enough to bring home an elk. It’s always a balancing act: making space for the possibility while keeping the essentials that make daily life manageable — frozen fruit, a quick meal, and yes, ice cream.

The trampoline will soon come down, the garden tucked in, the outdoor chairs stacked. Soon, the yard looks a little bare — but ready.

The sunflowers that bring me so much joy each year in our yard.

The Emotional Shift

The physical work of preparing for winter always carries its own weight. It’s a reminder that life here is dictated by weather, by nature, by rhythms bigger than our own plans.

There’s a bittersweetness in saying goodbye to long evenings outside, to mornings without a coat, to trails that will soon be buried under snow. I love the crispness of fall, the way the light shifts into something golden and fleeting — but there’s always a part of me that resists letting summer go. The older I get, the more I realize this season is as much a mental game as a physical one. It’s endurance, not a sprint. If you fight winter, it feels like torture. But if you lean into it — into the beauty, the rituals, the quiet — it becomes something else entirely.

My kids feel it differently. For them, the transition is excitement: counting down the days to skiing, sledding, snowball fights. Their energy pulls me along even when I’m dragging my feet. Alida, especially, can’t wait for her birthday and Halloween (both in the last week of October). We’ve never had a Halloween here where costumes weren’t hidden under puffy coats. No skimpy costumes in Silverton — if you see one, you know someone has chosen fashion over function.

The smell of woodsmoke has already returned to town. Neighbors are stoking stoves at night, and the valley fills with it — the smell of home, of warmth, of what’s coming. We’re holding off as long as possible, knowing soon enough it will become our own daily ritual.

And while part of me resists what lies ahead, another part is eager to hunker in.

Summer + early fall evenings in Silverton.

The Community Rhythm

It’s not just our family moving into winter mode; it’s everyone in Silverton. You can see it in the flurry of weekend projects: cords of wood stacked high, snow tires swapped, gardens cleared. It’s the prepping stage — a kind of “money in the bank” for the season: firewood stacked, freezers full, and the house organized and ready for whatever winter throws our way.

There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding here — everyone is racing the same clock. We all know the storm that finally closes the road for good is coming, and once it does, the pace slows. Neighbors aren’t in each other’s paths as often, chance encounters at the park happen less, and the whole town retreats into its own hibernation.

Some people call it “hermit season.” You don’t stop caring about community, but the natural tendency is to hunker down. Nights get longer, weather makes travel harder, and cozy evenings at home replace social gatherings.

Rituals + Mindset

Personally, I continue to hold space for rituals, no matter how small. On October 6th, the first of three supermoons rises — a chance to pause, reset, and set intentions for the season ahead. These moments feel especially important in a place like Silverton, where the rhythms of nature are so front-and-center. And if we’re not careful, the quiet can tip into loneliness, so creating intentional rituals helps keep perspective and connection.

I remind myself to make time for reflection alongside the practical work. Winter isn’t just about preparing the home and yard — it’s about preparing your heart and mind for the long months ahead.

And, of course, the holidays are already on my mind. Not the chaos of December, but the small, intentional steps to spread out purchases, plan for generosity, and avoid stress.

A few of our altars + rituals throughout the years + seasons.

Closing Reflection

Every year, this transition feels different. Some years I dread it, some years I welcome it, and most years I feel both. But every time, it reminds me of something I love about life here: you can’t ignore the seasons. You can’t put them off or pretend they’re not happening. You have to meet them head-on, and prepare yourself — your home, your family, your heart — to move through them.

It’s not always easy, but it’s grounding. It’s honest. And it’s part of the rhythm that makes life at 9,318 feet so uniquely alive.

Tool: Click below to grab a Winter Prep Checklist.