The snow kept falling and the avalanche warnings grew more ominous, but way up in Kyle Canyon, Rose Meranto found a way to smile and count her blessings like so many frosty flakes.
It tells you something about a person when she finds rays of hope in the hardest winter in the Spring Mountains in many years. But that's Rose.
She's a practicing Catholic and a devout Optimist. A more appropriate name you'd never find for a lady who manages to bloom in any season.
She wasn't born in the mountains, but came West four decades ago to Las Vegas in the migration of working-class Italian-Americans from Buffalo, Niagara Falls and Mechanicville. While husband Rocky dealt cards, Rose worked the switchboard during the heyday of the Sands. She made connections for the famous and infamous, always maintaining the old-school code of omerta adhered to by all professional PBX operators.
The Merantos worked hard, raised their children, and longed for the small-town feel they'd known as kids. As Las Vegas grew each day, that old neighborhood experience became harder to find.
Their search ended in the 1970s, when they bought a leaky, rundown cabin in the Old Town subdivision of Kyle Canyon. They moved there for good in 1978.
As a light snow fell Tuesday following several days of storms, Rose was reminded once again why she and her late husband made their decision to head for the hills. It had been a good investment, but the truth is it had nothing to do with money.
They found friends and that small-town feeling. Their little place, dubbed "Rocky's Roost," became a hub of Happy Hour fun and laughter. Anyone who has toured Kyle Canyon during the Christmas season will recall the Merantos' amazing nativity scene, which in some years included enough camels to outfit Ali Baba and more wise men than you'd find in a decade at the Nevada Legislature.
When her Rocky died, some well-meaning friends and family implored her to take it easy, move to town. But her heart was on the mountain up there in snow country, where residents occasionally see mountain lions in their front yards and now and then find themselves snowed in. She stayed on.
Her neighbors are a big reason. On Tuesday, they checked in on her repeatedly - and not just because there's always something hot or cold awaiting visitors. Mark Reddaway, Debbie Peters, George Tomich, Aimee Williams and Dan Snyder had plenty of snow at their own places, of course, but they wouldn't be good neighbors if they didn't check in on Rose with shovels in hand.
Rose recalls locals telling stories of the unfortunate woman who died in the avalanche of 1969 in the Echo subdivision. Her baby was saved only by a stroke of luck.
Since then, most mountain residents still tell stories of the big snow of 1993, which cracked roof beams and caved in the walls of older cabins, but fortunately caused no fatalities.
"I do believe that this is more snow than we got in 1993," she says of this month's monster. "People have to be prepared for this kind of thing when they live here. Thank God I've got food in my freezer and my propane tank is full."
She has food, fuel and friends. Few last long on the mountain without them.
"I've had different ones call me and ask me if I'm getting cabin fever and if I'm all right," Rose says.
Her son Bob and daughter-in-law Pam Meranto spent a few days to make sure she was safe.
"Different ones have called to see if there's any groceries I need. It's not that I was alone. Had I been alone, it might have been a different story, but I have the neighbors. The way people pull together, that's what makes it so special up here."
Trouble with the snow is, it's temporarily stopped her Review-Journal delivery.
"I miss it when I don't get the paper, but that's minimal," she says.
Minimal?
Wait a minute, sweetheart. That's not minimal. That's my job.
"All right, I retract that," she says, laughing. "I have to say that with all the snow that we've gotten, it was such a winter wonderland. It's just so beautiful. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
That's Mountain Rose.
She blooms in any weather.
John L. Smith's column appears Thursdays in the Nevada Appeal. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295.
