When Winter Doesn’t Show Up

View of town from Shrine Hill on January 20, 2026. Typically, I cross-country ski this loop directly from my house. Instead, we are all still wearing our mud boots.

January in a Town Built for Winter (with a little from the vault)

January in Silverton is usually loud with snow.

Skis stacked by doors.
Boot dryers humming.
Kids counting inches instead of days.

This year, it’s quieter.

Silverton Mountain is open, but numbers are down. Hotels are less full.
Kendall still hasn’t opened.
The streets feel wider (which is hard to believe with our wide Western dirt roads).
The calendar is emptier.

There’s no snow to complain about, just the absence of it.

The kids don’t seem to mind much.

Hawkins is packing for a climbing competition this weekend.
Phen is prepping for his upcoming freeride comp on bulletproof snow, aka ice.
Alida is gearing up for the first ski race of the season at Wolf Creek. It’s on for now. But we will see.

They’re moving forward anyway.

Adults notice the missing things.
Kids adapt.

I keep catching myself waiting.
For a storm.
For momentum.
For January to do something.

I miss cross-country skiing out my door.

Instead, we’ve been making things.

Fire cider during the new moon.
Vision boards spread across the table.
Grapefruit candles poured and shared last night at The Après Den.

Tempting an even deeper pause to turn inward.

And I’m reminded this isn’t the first time winter hasn’t shown up the way I expected.

From the Vault

I scrolled back this week.

Old Januarys filled with snowbanks taller than toddlers.
Kendall days we took for granted.
Photos where winter felt endless and guaranteed.

I remember thinking then that it would always be like that.

It wasn’t.

And it won’t be again, in the same way.

This January feels a little boring.

But also honest.

A town built for winter, learning how to be still without it.
Families adjusting their rhythms.
Kids finding joy where they are.
Adults learning (again) that seasons don’t perform on command.

There’s a quiet invitation here.

Life at 9318’

This winter isn’t loud.
But it’s teaching us how to stay present anyway.
To light candles.
To make plans.

To remember that not every season arrives with spectacle.
And to believe that snow and momentum will come when it’s ready.

Pictures from 2016 + 2017 Januaries.