From wildlife to weather, the foothills have quirks that outsiders might shake their heads at, but we wouldn’t trade them for anything. It’s all part of what drew us to move here—what keeps us here to protect our small mountain town way of life.
It’s the wildlife way of life up here. Take the “short” route through Evergreen and you still might end up late for school, work or lunch. No one minds though; when you finally arrive, there’s always a knowing head nod and side smile of understanding: the elk crossing. Spring mornings bring their own surprises—overturned trash cans and rummaged bags courtesy of newly awakened bears. And lately, it’s the chickens and turkeys meandering through yards, sometimes running amok if a neighborhood dog decides to join the fun. It’s our very own drive-through zoo, the kind that makes even the most seasoned wildlife watcher pause in delight.
“We’re hardier than most—and we like it that way.”
Besides the live entertainment, we’ve learned to roll with the weather—in all its mania and unpredictability. Snow in May at a Conifer graduation on the football field, or shorts paired with UGGs at Evergreen’s Holiday Walk in December—perfectly normal. Then there’s the art of layering: flannel, down vest, leggings, socks and flip-flops. Or maybe the flip-flops swapped out for cowboy boots. Either way, no one blinks twice.
Perhaps the best part of all is the way the weather can shift in a heartbeat, adding to the foothills’ sense of magic and wonder. And even when it’s not so enchanting, there’s still something to appreciate. We endure the slide off an icy driveway, only to be dug out by neighbors. We brave 2 feet of snow and sub-zero temperatures without ever calling it a snow day. We dash to the car just as hail starts falling like nails from the sky. We’re hardier than most—and we like it that way.
Maybe it’s those hard moments that make us treasure the small gestures like “the wave.” A simple kindness, rare on highways, but part of daily life on our single-lane roads. I remember my first wave driving down Elk Creek Road in Pine, glancing up at Lion’s Head and thinking, this is what I came here for; to find beauty, peace, and a community of people who make the mountains feel like home.
You see that community everywhere—at the Blackbird Café, or at the new Snowpack Taproom location, where what was meant to be a quick bite turns into a three-hour gathering with friends. That’s small-town life. Our small-town life. And if you’re here, you know exactly what I mean.
It’s all of these things—the quirks, the kindness, the connections that bring comfort and safety. Which is why our entire mountain community was shaken a few weeks ago. We think things like that don’t happen here. But they do. And while there are no words to make sense of it, one thing is certain: we will heal. Together. Across every foothills town, we are all Evergreen Strong.
