One of the things I love about New Mexico is the transition from season to season. Some seasons are like boxers, masters of the jab. Reaching out, reaching out but waiting to unload the power hand at just the right time. Last night’s sunset was a perfect example. Sitting at a friend’s house sipping mezcal while the sun took its final plunge. Looking west toward the Jemez, you could see the snow coming, dancing across the peaks. Fickle, dropping here and there amid patches of late sun. There was no wind. None, nothing at all. Just silence.
By morning, things were different. Waking to a dulled glow through the blinds. No sun and the pinging of wintery mix on the skylight. A right cross from Mother Nature. Not a big snow, but still coming six hours later. Temps below freezing so the snow will take its time. The snow will loiter, giving up only when the sun manages to wrestle back control. The Earth is happy here, now, but the pleasure is only temporary. Now we watch and wait for the cycle to run once again.