Snow and Mint Chip Ice Cream
It Snowed, then It Snowed on Snow
It was May 2017 when the last May snow storm exceeded this May’s 28 inches. In 2017, 36 inches dropped in 24 hours. It happened to be the same time my wife, Carolyn, brought her mother to visit our new condo and see the wonders of Rocky Mountain National Park.
My mother-in-law is a wonderful person who much prefers malls to mountains. She’d visit Macy’s any day while wondering why anyone would shop for such unnecessary items like hiking boots at Scheels, down jackets at REI, or wool shocks woven with moose images from Cabelas.
Over the years, she has come to Estes Park for visits, and I have graciously offered to give her a tour of the park. Her response has been, “Why would I want to do that? I saw an elk last time I was here.” We live in two different worlds. There is nothing wrong with either one. They are just different.
But her first trip to Estes Park was when Carolyn wanted her mom to see the wonders of the Rocky Mountains, the beauty of spring in the high country, and the incredible wildlife we share our land with.
It was May 2017. Carolyn showed her the open meadows of wandering elk, took her on a tour of the wonderful downtown shops, and bought her dinner at the rusticly impressive Rock Inn. Driving through the park, her mother was shocked at having no cell service. In the stores, she realized their offerings were primarily moose and elk tee-shirts, bear figurines, and decor emblazoned with dynamic bighorn sheep, though she thoroughly enjoyed her choice of ice cream shops. That evening over bison meatballs and trout at the Rock Inn, she countered Carolyn’s delight for the log beams and dynamic moose head with “but it’s so old.”
My mother-in-law is great, but we see the world differently. I see it as an open air opportunity for exploration. She sees it as air-conditioned comfort opportunities to shop in a mall where she can buy things to increase her comfort. Not a bad life at all, but different from my world of hikes to mountain lakes and adventures capturing images of moose in the snow.
So in May 2017, in the middle of that four day visit, it snowed. Then it snowed more, adding more snow on top of snow until there were 36 inches piled high.
As the challenges of a massive snow storm started, Carolyn took her to Safeway for provisions. They stocked up on Diet Coke, salad in a bag, soup in a can, a couple of beef steaks (of course, not elk meat). She and her mother would be trapped together under the deluge of snow, so Carolyn bought her own much needed comfort food. Mint chip ice cream.
The snow continued to fall. Mother and daughter were bound together. Not in a covered wagon or tent in a primitive campground. They were trapped together in a three bedroom condo with a gas fireplace, panoramic mountain view, and 75” TV with 365 channels to choose from. Together, they watched the beauty of falling snow, ate delicious salads with ripe tomatoes and Vidalia dressing, and enjoyed reruns of the Law and Order franchise.
Then a second tragedy struck. As the wet May snow fell, it gathered deeper and deeper on the satellite of the TV receiver until the TV screen flashed “Searching for Signal.” Now mother and daughter had lost the entertainment of reruns. Talking was their only entertainment. So as they talked, they watched the snow fall growing deeper and deeper over the driveway.
Finally, the fatigue of conversation set in and to bed they went. The next morning, the snow was still falling, piled like an impenetrable barrier keeping them trapped inside without
Law and Order or even a historically silly
Green Acres.
Talking being the only option, Carolyn asked, “How did you sleep?” Her mother answered, “I can’t breathe at this altitude. I don’t know how you do it. I was up most of the night eating snacks. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me.”
Carolyn went into the bedroom returning with a canister of oxygen. “Here,” she explained, “this will help.” She felt relief knowing that her mom had the needed oxygen, and there was comfort food in the frig.
It was about one o’clock that day when Carolyn called me. Sitting in my office in Iowa, I answered, “Are you surviving the snow?” Her voice was incessant. “She ate all of my ice cream.” “What,” I asked. “She couldn’t sleep, so in the middle of the night she ate my mint chip ice cream. Now we’re trapped in a house surrounded by snow falling for twenty-four hours at an inch and a half an hour. There’s no TV, we can’t even open the door let alone go outside, and she ate all of my mint chip ice cream.” Clearly, the stress was taking hold.
Thus, the story we repeated and laughed about on May 6, 2026, as 28 inches of snow piled up on our roof, deck, and driveway. Luckily, we had an internet signal to stream reruns, mostly
FBI
with a few Law and Orders
thrown in.
As we streamed shows, talked, laughed, and watched the beauty of the much needed snow, I could only smile as Carolyn ate a pint of mint chip ice cream.
