We are not there yet, this winterscape in the image: not enough snow nor sun, nor yet enough blue. At the moment, our world falls somewhere short of the azure and ice of an alpine desert winter.
We do, for the moment, have bits of blue peaking through dilatory bands of heavy gray cloud, the this storm that mostly bypassed us nonetheless seemingly unwilling to depart. It gave us far more rain than snow, and no accumulation here at all, although the ground readily absorbed the rain on offer. but as the clouds slowly lift, by inches and feet, it becomes possible to see the snow on the slopes.
If we are to be allowed it in only one place, the mountains are that place.
Still, after such protracted drought, we are as thirsty as the land itself for real snow here at their feet. We have had a bit, no more, I think, than six to eight inches at a time thus far, but in an ordinary year, those would be clear indicators of a hard heavy winter to come.
Winter here is very different from most places on this land mass, an alternating of heavy-weather whites with the bright blues of an arid desert sky. In truth, even in what used to pass for an ordinary year, we get much more of the latter than the former; this is still a place where heaven prefers turquoise robes lit by a golden sun. But for me, from a land of lake-effect snows and winters clad almost wholly in white, the stormy days are welcome indeed.
No more than a minute ago, the sun came out overhead, lighting up the land and turning the frozen detritus of the last storm into diamonds. Now, some seconds later, the clouds hold primacy, a low and lowering sky in shades of white and gray, backlit silver by a mostly-hidden sun. The latillas that glow gold in the winter light are now as leaden as the sky, visible mostly in silhouette. It struck us both how rare the sight of blue skies and sun have been lately, and that, too, is rare for this place, no matter the season.
For the moment, we have nearly a week before the next storm forecast now for the weekend: time enough for the remnant patches of white to melt and make their way below ground; time enough, too, for our small world to settle into its more usual cycle of warming days and freezing nights, enough sun to heat up the adobe bricks of our home in the daylight, the better to sustain it through the dark hours lit only by ice of a more cosmic sort.
This is a season to grow naturally reflective, contemplative: to ruminate on the extremes of Nature and appreciate our good fortune in surviving them. The cold focuses the mind, certainly, and it also shows us the value of other seasons . . . but the snow is what sustains us year-round. Too much sun at this time is not a good thing; we need the clouds to bring the water.
As with all else in life, it’s a balance: between cold and heat, light and dark, sun and storm. At this season, it all comes down to the balance between clear skies and snow, between azure and ice.
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