the white stuff

Woke up to this.


Snow, even though it creates a “winter wonderland” and is “moisture for the garden” and blah, blah, blah, is extremely boring. Nature’s version of motivational seminars and team-building exercises. Totally devoid of anything interesting.

True, border collies like snow, and I guess that’s important to me.

Slipper in the blizzard of March 2003

Well, I do remember one thing, and have associated it with snow ever since. When I was ten, new to Colorado, I was forced to take the train to Winter Park in an attempt to get me enthusiastic about skiing. It was freezing cold, I hated the whole thing, walked about five feet up the ski slope and decided that was enough for me. On the way back, I was walking through train car filled with women in heavy sweaters, and the train lurched, I started to fall, held out my hands to grab onto anything that would break my fall, and the anything turned out to be a pair of very nice breasts. I pretended to be embarrassed and ran into the next car.

That’s my One Good Memory of Snow. I never set foot anywhere near a ski slope after that; tried ice skating once, and sledding once, too.

I managed to take one picture of the coppery glint on the fruit of Opuntia violacea var. macrocentra before the sun disappeared, in preparation for more snow tonight.

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