Six days ago, it was still coming down. The winter storms were like cars in a freight train, rolling in every night. The snow was hardly ever heavy, just fine little flakes falling silently and constantly, without any wind, over days and days. This is a perfect example of my new axiom that a whole lot of snow is better than just a few inches, at least at first. When it gets so deep that clearing it all away is both impossible and silly, you shift into a different realm. Yes, it’s beautiful. Compare with tighter photo here shot the day before—looks like more snow there, but it’s not.
The vertical objects left of center are two icicles I broke off the canales (roof drainspouts). Before I broke the tip off the biggest one, it was long enough to reach all the way down to the ground. I arranged them and others around the stone fish from Michoacan to make a sort of snow temple. Watch for a photo coming up. As of this writing, they’re almost completely melted away.
John Hamilton Farr lives in Taos, New Mexico, U.S.A. As New York Times best-selling author James C. Moore tells it, John is “a man attuned to the world who sees it differently than you and I and writes about it with a language and a vision of life that is impossible to ignore.” See .png)