(Last Updated On: September 18, 2014)

Ullr’s finally back in the mood for pow; last week he made a statement by dumping a foot of snow in 24 hours in Breckenridge — and he didn’t stop there. He’s still bringing in winter storms, with 15 inches accumulating at Breckenridge Ski Resort in the last seven days.

Last season, we begged him. We paraded around him. For (his) god’s sake, we even relit the bonfire and burned skis for him.

So why didn’t he bless us with abundant snow last year? In-between making turns this week, we had a little heart-to-heart chat with the Norse god of snow.

We had some face-to-face time with Ullr, and he finally talked about his love affair.

We had some face-to-face time with Ullr, and he finally talked about his love affair.

As it turns out, love blinded him last winter. He fell — and fell hard —for the Norse goddess, Alfrodull. Sadly enough, she rules over summer, so it was not a match made in heaven. Here’s how the woeful story unfolded:

Ullr had known Alfrodull since birth. After all, she IS the sun goddess. They played together as children — he’d work his magic and make it snow all night, and then she’d shine her rays in the morning. They’d giggle all day as they watched humans play in the sunlit powder.

But as they got older, their responsibilities to control weather patterns consumed more and more of their time, and they grew apart.

Then, during the 2009/2010 season, when Ullr was 47 by Breckenridge’s count, Ullr began to have a bit of a midlife crisis. He got a little cranky, which resulted in just a fair — not spectacular — snowfall season.

So Sjofn, being the Norse goddess of human passion, decided to relight Ullr’s fire by turning his lustful eye toward his old friend, Alfrodull.

Ullr and Alfrodull fell madly in love, and by 2010/11, Ullr delivered fistfuls of snow to Breckenridge with a smile on his face. But, as nature would have it, the two began to fight.

You see, as Alfrodull matured, she began to understand her full responsibilities as the sun goddess. As a child, she simply brought light to Ullr’s snowfall. But as she aged, she realized she was responsible for delivering not only light, but also heat — and lots of it.

She began to vex Ullr with her pleas to allow the snow to melt so her precious tulips and daisies could dot green meadows with color.

Ullr fans line Main Street during Breckenridge's Ullr parade.

Ullr fans line Main Street during Breckenridge’s Ullr parade.

Meanwhile, Ullr had become a rock-star god in his homeland and places afar, like Breckenridge. Every winter, snow enthusiasts paid homage to him with bonfires and zany parades. He didn’t want to surrender his stardom.

By January 2011, Alfrodull pressured him every day. She wanted him to warm up winter and stop making her work extra hard to melt so many layers of snow come spring. Ullr knew that to please her meant surrendering his rock-star lifestyle of praise and adoration for his long, snowy winters.

But, possessed by love, he gave into her desires. And we all had a crappy snow year.

Yes, some of us did sit on our pitty pot when it didn't snow a lot last season.

Yes, some of us did sit on our pitty pot when it didn’t snow a lot last season.

While Breckenridge touted Ullr being “49 and feelin’ fine,” even Alfrodull began to notice Ullr’s physical deterioration. His quads had atrophied from not shredding enough powder. His beer belly spread. But most of all, he had lost that special twinkle — the one that looked like a snowflake if you glimpsed it at just the right angle — in his eye.

Meanwhile, Alfrodull worked tirelessly, hoping sunshine would cheer up Ullr, just as it had on those special mornings in their youth. She toiled to bring light and warmth to the globe. Still, Ullr remained dull.

In May, the couple sought counsel from Frigga, the Norse god of love and marriage. She prophesized their impending demise. They dreaded breaking up, so they went to Dr. Phil.

Yes, it was Dr. Phil who finally set Ullr straight by saying, “Look: You’ve lost your identity. You are THE GOD of snow. So ditch the goddess — I don’t care how pretty she is — and get back to what Ullr does best: Making it snow.”

Understandably, it took Ullr a couple months to get back on his game. Early season didn’t look too promising, as Ullr hid under a rock, trying to mend his broken heart. But right before Christmas, his mother, Modir, demanded a white Christmas — and at least a foot of powder.

Last week, Ullr dumped over a foot of snow; here a snowboarder shreds it at Breckenridge Ski Resort. Photo credit: Breckenridge Ski Resort.

Last week, Ullr dumped over a foot of snow; here a snowboarder shreds it at Breckenridge Ski Resort. Photo credit: Breckenridge Ski Resort.

She enlisted Eir, the Norse goddess of healing, to help Ullr regain his mojo. And regain it he did.

Now Ullr’s only got one thing on his mind: SNOW.

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About The Author

Kimberly Nicoletti always knew she was meant to escape gray Chicago winters and spend her days skiing the Colorado Rockies. So, two months after she turned 18, she moved to Breckenridge to be a ski bum "for a season," assuring her parent's she'd return to Illinois to finish college. But, the ski bum life stuck. After three years of full-time skiing in Summit County, she decided to finish her degree at CU-Boulder in Creative Writing (granted, she took a semester off to ski). Once free of classes, she took yet another year off to ski in Summit (do you see a pattern here?). Then, she moved back to Boulder to earn her master's degree in Somatic Psychology/Dance Therapy. Upon graduation, she spent a winter teaching skiing at Mammoth Mountain. (Surely you see the pattern now.) In 2002, she moved back to Summit full time, to work at the Summit Daily as the arts and entertainment editor. She stayed with the company for 10 years, enjoying Summit's great events and later working as the managing editor of magazines covering the High Country. She still revolves her life around adventure and creativity, taking time to travel, ski, paddleboard, dance, ice skate, play with her dogs, learn new things and generally enjoy life. She's highly addicted to powder skiing and keeps her winter mornings commitment-free so she can indulge in "deep play" when Mother Nature cooperates. Off the mountain, she's a freelance writer and editor and teaches fitness and mind/body classes throughout Summit County.

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