Snow brings moisture to the high desert, where moisture is most appreciated.
And, in the borderlands of West Texas, the sun almost always chases winter away before it gets sloppy, and weather-hardened rural folks don't feel the need to stick to fixed schedules when the roads are bad. So a big snowfall is generally more delight than inconvenience.
This first snow fell overnight. We woke to a blanket of white that we couldn't wait to leave footprints across. Before we got ourselves layered in winter-wear, though, the sun was already sparkling heat onto the western slopes, where the recently white-heavy branches were waving green around again. On the eastern slopes of the canyon, the mountain's shade kept the snow crusty and deep.
It was too cold for the parrot, but Jim and me and the terrier, clad in his signature LL Bean coat (Chert's a label snob) headed up-mountain. I veered off-trail, of course, and tromped as far as I dared through the thick trees lining the draw-- a twenty-foot deep ravine that I didn't want to tumble into. I wasn't searching for anything in particular, but off-trail is when you SEE things. And sure enough, there, on, the very edge of said chasm, an isolated sapling proudly waved a handful of bright red leaves at the sun, which was scattering warmth like yellow confetti through the trees now.
And, as trees will do when they have an audience, the scrawny little tree, barely more than a twig with a few leaves said, Hello! Look at me! Sure, I got cold and wet, but hey, I survived!! When I smiled, it added, Want a red leaf?
Of course I did.
- Framed: 11 x 13 x 2 in (27.94 x 33.02 x 5.08 cm)
- Subject Matter: Landscape
- Collections: Far West Texas Landscapes, Miniatures