Saturday, November 30, 2013

winter, for a moment





 
 


 

 
 
The snow is almost gone now but for a moment everything was white, cold, and clean. The desert was transformed and I walked in a magical world of ice crystals, clouds, and sharp,clear air.
 
The brief spell of winter brought so much clarity to this harsh desert. There was an afternoon of beauty that threatened to soften this soul as I wandered the west mesa. I watched the dogs run, the shadows lengthen, and the sun set. Our footprints would soon melt and this day would be forgotten, lost in the return of the sun and warmer weather.
 
Days like this are rare out here. I celebrate each one with a walk, a thermos of cocoa, and the thought that in its own way, nature smiles on me and invites me out to play.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

really seeing snow







 

Born and raised in a colder climate, I learned to measure snow in feet, not inches.

Here in New Mexico, it doesn't snow much at all. On the rare occasions snow is predicted, I practically wait at the window for the first snowflake sighting.

When it did finally snow in the Rio Grande valley, I measured it in millimeters. But....it was just enough to warm this snowflake lovin' heart!

Monday, November 25, 2013

the west mesa

 

 
 
 






I swear I didn't do it.


Threatening clouds. Winter storm warnings.

Anticipation.

Naturally, I did what anyone would do. I bundled up, took the dogs, and drove out to the west mesa to wait for the weather to come in.

I love a good storm.    :)

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

haunted


 

 


 
 
I approach cautiously. Old, weathered wood creaks and groans. My own footsteps scare me.

I come closer, using my camera as a weapon, a shield, a reason for the slow, careful way I circle the house.

There are no signs of life, except for the mice and birds that now inhabit the house. I cross the threshold, stand in what was the kitchen. I suddenly feel sad, almost hearing the voices that once filled this house.

A storm approaches, the air grows damp and cold.
I take one last picture, turn, and leave. I am haunted by this house.