By Patricia Lee Sharpe
It began raining on Tuesday night. Wednesday morning it was still raining—but wait! Was that rain? No, it was very fine snow, but falling thickly. Less than an hour later, the real flakes came down—and stayed. For a while.
So I snapped, as evidence, a few pictures, most of which were as bad and beyond salvaging as the worst captures an amateur can be guilty of. Blurry from a wet lens or from a wobbled camera or just plain out of focus. I was chilly and in a hurry, after all. I hadn’t planned on photography before I had coffee, and time was of the essence. Mid-October snow doesn’t last long at 7000 feet or even a bit higher. I just wanted to supply a little proof of our sustained and encouraging first snowfall—crystals on catmint, clumped flakes on ornamental grass, plus a view of the stuff coming down behind a coyote fence.
As far as the latter goes, the vaguely industrial item in the center of the picture is an electric meter some 75 feet away, across a road. I was so gosh-durned eager to get a picture of snow coming down, I didn’t notice it. But then, in all the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never noticed it. My—um—ambiance is not a manicured and gated community. A mere meter wasn't worth a glance or a frown or a complaint to the zoning board in a neighborhood that also features an abandoned truck or two. Real life, I call it.
Back to photography. At times I manage to take more than a few acceptable photos, even some really good ones. This
time I didn’t do so well, but hey! It’s the first snow of the season
and here in Santa Fe we relish our winters, the briskness, the
swhirling snow storms. We especially yearn for snow in the mountains, but
this week it was two days before the clouds began to lift and the
ceiling was high enough to let me see, with my own eyes, if there had been some accumulation
on the mountains that provide a backdrop to the city. Sure enough.
White peaks and snow-dusted forest.
The view from my living room windows is annoyingly obstructed, so I grabbed my camera and rushed up the street for a better angle. These shots turned out less contemptible than the miserable closeups. (Confession: sometimes I forget when the macro is on and stuff like that.) So here’s the most atmospherish of this batch. The highest, mostly unobscured peak is Tesuque. It reaches over 12,000 feet, and its gently rounded summit bristles with communications towers and dishes. (Not that my cel phone reception is all that good, but the dirt track that's really a service road for all that equipment makes for an easy way to the top.)
According to snow gauges, the mountains accumulated about seven inches of snow this week, which turns out to be about an inch of precipitation, but snow that blesses us this early in the season isn’t likely to remain, especially if we get too many days as clear and sunny as it is at this very moment. (Yes, I could run up the street right now and take another picture, but I don't feel like it. Besides I like the brooding look of the shot I'm showing.) Still, winter has served notice, and the usual expectation is that, snow or no snow, the temperature will fall sufficiently to allow the snow makers to get to work at the Santa Fe ski basin so that the slopes will be open for Thanksgiving or (so the operators fervently pray) not too much later.
As for any snow cover down here in the city, it never stays for long, though we often have a white Christmas, and some little mounds of white stuff in my yard may linger until spring. As far as that goes, the ice on the road in front of my house tends to be especially persistent. Even so, here’s hoping for a lot more snow—and soon. I finally invested in some snowshoes last year, and just a few weeks ago I ordered a good set of crampons for tromping along icy hiking trails. I’m ready.
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!