There is a certain hush that falls over a landscape where snow was once expected — an unspoken pause in the rhythm of seasons, like the breath held between exhale and return. In the Western United States this winter, that hush has become more than a metaphor; it is a defining characteristic of the season so far. Far from the deep white blankets that many remember, the mountains and highlands are showing a scarcity of snow that feels almost surreal to those who depend on the meltwater for life each spring and summer. This “snow drought” — not merely a shortage of flakes but a lack of the snowpack that sustains rivers and reservoirs — is now being observed across vast stretches of the West, a condition that resonates through ecology, water supply and community routines.
Snow has long been more than ornament in the West. It is stored water: a natural reservoir that feeds the Colorado River, waters orchards and cities, and replenishes aquifers that sustain millions of people and livelihoods. But this year, despite storms that brought rain or high-elevation flakes, the amount of snow lingering on the slopes is far below what scientists expect for late winter. Federal data show that many regions in the Sierra Nevada, the Rockies and Cascades are measuring snowpack at record or near-record low levels for this time of year, with warm temperatures nudging precipitation toward rain rather than snow even at elevations that once held deep winter cover.
In Colorado, for example, a state climatologist recently described statewide snowpack as the lowest in the modern record for this late January period, with averages barely above half of what is typical. Even with more winter to come, such a slow start has water managers and scientists worried about what it means for spring runoff and reservoir inflows — vital components in a region already shaped by multi-year dry spells and warm winters.
Across other Western states the picture is similar. In Oregon and Idaho, automated snow telemetry stations report that the accumulated snow water equivalent — the actual water contained in a mountain’s snow — falls well below median levels, with many sites registering among the lowest in decades of record-keeping. Even where total precipitation has been near or above average, the warm character of storms has tipped the balance toward rain instead of the deep, slow-accumulating snow that typifies a healthy winter season.
For communities attuned to changes in snowpack, the implications stretch beyond ski resort calendars and season passes. The snow that clings to peaks through winter melts gradually in spring and early summer, feeding rivers and reservoirs in a rhythm that dates back millennia. With that rhythm altered, water managers are left to adjust to a future where the snow cushion is thinner, the runoff arrives earlier, and the summer may come with greater strain on water supplies.
In valleys and basins that rely on snowmelt to fill irrigation ditches or provide drinking water, the absence of a robust snowpack can translate into real economic and social pressures. Farmers, city planners and environmental stewards all watch these winter trends, knowing that the legacy of snow — more than temperature or fleeting storms — underpins the resilience of the West’s water systems.
The term “snow drought” itself has become more common in climate and water supply discussions, describing years when snowpack falls short of the historical norm either because storms fail to bring cold enough weather or because what does fall melts too quickly. Such conditions can lead to lower river flows, higher wildfire risk in dry seasons and tougher challenges for ecosystems adapted to a cycle of deep winter snows and slow spring melt.
Even as snow surveys continue through the earliest months of the year, scientists caution that the current deficits are steep. With temperatures running well above normal across much of the region, the ingredients for replenishing the snowpack remain uncertain. Forecasters note that while late winter storms could still improve conditions, the window for a full rebound narrows with each warm day that passes.
There is a broader context to these patterns: years of warming — especially in late fall and early winter — push average snowlines higher, meaning that lower and middle elevations where snow once reliably accumulated now receive more rain even when precipitation is ample. These dynamics are documented in federal climate data and reflect a trend that many scientists link to rising global temperatures.
For residents of the West, these changes are often felt quietly at first — a ski season delayed, a spring river runoff lighter than expected, a reservoir that doesn’t rise as it once did. But the cumulative effect can be profound, shaping decisions about water usage, land management, and the shared future of towns and cities that depend on mountain snow as much as they depend on sunlight and soil.
In straight terms, the Western U.S. is experiencing an unusually severe snow drought this winter, with snowpack far below historical averages at many locations across the Sierra Nevada, Rocky Mountains, Cascades and other ranges. Federal data from automated snow telemetry stations show low snow water equivalent values at record or near-record lows for this time of year. Scientists say warm temperatures have caused more precipitation to fall as rain rather than snow, contributing to the deficit, and warn that impacts on water supply and summer conditions may be significant unless conditions change later in the season.
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Sources NOAA/NIDIS snow drought update NASA Earth Observatory Colorado Public Radio report on snow drought San Francisco Chronicle weather coverage Physics-reviewed climate reporting