Shifting Seasons at 9,318 Feet: Family, Rituals, and Winter Prep in Silverton
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.
Our Family’s 10-Day Grocery Haul: How We Shop from Silverton
Groceries, groceries, groceries. Out here, food isn’t just a shopping list — it’s logistics, planning, and survival. Living in Silverton means the nearest “normal” grocery store is at least an hour away, whether north to Montrose or south to Durango. That’s not exactly a quick midweek errand.
Nine Months of Winter: What It Really Takes to Live Here
When people ask what it’s like to live in Silverton, I usually start with the obvious: winter lasts about nine months. Snow comes early and lingers long. Our kids ride bikes on the only paved road in town, but for most of the year those bikes lean in the shed, waiting for a stretch of bare ground.
At 9,318 feet, life is both beautiful and brutal. On a clear morning, the peaks glow pink, and it feels like we’re living inside a postcard. On a stormy one, we’re shoveling for the third time before breakfast, and I wonder if we’ve lost our minds.